God Save America!
by Shatterdoll
Summary: On the verge of financial ruin, America turns to England for assistance. He gets far more than he bargained for. Hijinks ensue. Onesided!EnglandxAmerica, WorldxAmerica. M for language, fanservice, and just to be safe.
1. Chapter 1

You will notice this is much more lighthearted than my other story even though it starts with a similar premise of a failing America. -laughs- Based on an idea my friend and I came up with, which was originally just a joke about how England secretly wants America and has been waiting for him to get weak enough to recapture. I'll be expanding on this idea. This started with the intention of being a pure crack fic and somehow got very serious in some parts. So I guess it will slip between the two.

Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia or its characters now or ever (and this is extended to my Human Sunflower fic as I forgot to put one in there)

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America does not immediately get up when he hears the knock at the door. He knows that every second he delays answering it the longer he can delay the shame and humiliation that would follow soon after. The knocking comes again, sharper and more impatient than before.

America gulps and pools his courage. He couldn't let something like this intimidate him, he was the hero after all! And even though current events were threatening to turn him into a fallen hero, he still was brave enough to do what had to be done, even if it meant humiliating himself in front of _him_. America stands and pulls himself to his full height, adjusting Texas and brushing his golden blond hair back with one sweep of the hand.

"Alright!" His voice echoes more than he had expected at his resolve building yell.

Even walking to the door he can feel it... It was getting worse by the day. His stomach churns uneasily and his usual infinite confidence was starting to fail him. Things were spiraling, had been for months. No, realistically, they had fallen out of his hands years ago and he had just never taken the time to see it. Too preoccupied with this and that, too over-sure of himself to ever consider that it might even happen.

America finally answers the door after the person on the other side bangs on it angrily. "Finally! It's about time you twat. Don't make your guests wait so long if you invited them in the first place! You never did have any manners."

America grimaces. "Hello England. Come in."

If England notices his unusually demur attitude he hides it under another wave of criticisms as he walks through the door and into America's house. He did always love to nitpick just about everything there was about America.

The two walk further into the house, England immediately heading to the usual room. He collapses into his usual chair, shoving a pillow with an Eagle design impatiently aside. "So what is it this time? Getting yourself into more messes? It better be as important as you made it sound. I have a lot of problems too you know. This recession is really killing my country right now."

America flinches at mention of the recession. "That's actually what I wanted to talk to you about. It's been getting pretty bad here..."

England clicks his tongue in disgust. "Oh don't tell me you're actually going to ask for a hand out? How humble of you. Thought you were too good to ask anything of me. So tell me, how much do you intend to ask for?"

Beneath the disgust is partially concealed delight at the prospect that America actually needed him. There's a sick feeling in the pit of America's stomach as he prepares himself to tell England the truth. He would never live down what he was about to say. But it had to be done. For his people! He was the hero and their safety mattered more than his damaged pride.

"Well?"

America sits across from England, lacing his fingers together. "England- No. Arthur..." England seems taken aback by the use of his human name. "I need your help. Desperately. And don't think I would be doing this if it wasn't my absolute last resort! Trust me, I'd do something if I could. But... I'm crumbling. My economy is falling down around my ears. I have no money Arthur. The country is coming apart. All of my resources have been spread out far too thin. If I don't do something soon then America might collapse completely. I can't let power hungry countries steal away pieces of my country while I'm too weak to stop them. And I am getting weak Arthur. I just... I don't have the strength I once did. Even my enthusiasm is fading. My boss has been scrambling to find a solution but I have to do my part too. I'm asking for damage control. If I don't stop this now it will be too late and I will fall as a world power. I can't let that happen to my people."

America sighs. Here came the hard part. "So I'm asking, no, I... I'm begging you for your help! Please Arthur, help me keep my country afloat while we get through this rough patch. It doesn't just benefit me, it's useful to a lot of the rest of the world as well!" He is hasty to add. "And, and it wouldn't just be you, you're just the first person I'm asking. I want to ask Matthew and maybe even Francis. Then I have some favors I can call in. If all of you pitch in... I hate asking for your charity but I can't think of anything else. I'm getting desperate Arthur, I feel so weak..."

England takes the first good look at America since he had gotten there. America did indeed look very drained. The luster and exuberance that had once poured from him in bucketfuls was severely dimmed. America lowers his head in embarrassment. He's sure he'll never live down England's gloating. But at least he knows there's a good chance Arthur will indeed help him. If for nothing else than a slightly wrinkled sense of nostalgia.

England is silent for a long moment. "That must have hurt you terribly to ask that of me."

America can't bring himself to look up, to let England see how true his words are. Then quite suddenly, England begins to laugh. It starts as a low chuckle, evolving into a full blown cackle. It is a sound of pure mirth.

America's head snaps up at the sound. He is insulted and puzzled at the hurtful outburst. "This is no laughing matter Arthur!"

England puts a hand to his forehead as he calms himself. Finally he pulls his hand away, giving America a twisted smirk. "Oh you misunderstand Alfred," he purrs silkily. "I am not laughing at your current predicament. I am laughing because it has finally come."

America looks at him blankly. "What's come?"

England is on his feet and across the room before America realizes what's happening. He grabs America by the hair, forcing him to look up into his face. "Why, the day that you will be coming home."

America's eyes widen. "What the fuck are you talking about? Have you gone bat-shit bonkers? I said I needed help, I didn't say I wanted to join with you again!"

England tightens his grip on the others hair—such soft hair—causing him to wince. "Once again you are too stupid to get it. I've been waiting for this day for a long time. Ever since your little war of independence. The only reason I gave you up that day was because I knew someday I would be able to reclaim you. I've been waiting so patiently, repairing my relationship with you, watching, helping you, waiting. Now the day has come that I can take you back to my house. And this time I have no intention of letting you go!"

The next thing America knows he is being forced up and his lips are being violently crushed to England's. As England pulls away America spits. England was out of his fucking mind. He had to get away, tell someone. Matthew, France, someone. But England has no intention of letting America escape.

"I love you Alfred." He bashes him in the head with the blunt end of the lamp that sits on the side table.

America falls to the ground, stunned. If he wasn't so damn weak he probably would have been able to recover faster, to resist more, but that strength is no longer there. England looks around the room for something to restrict his captive. His eyes light up when they fall on the full-sized American flag hanging on the wall.

"How appropriate." He rips it from the wall and is quick to shred it, creating the proper restraints.

America dazedly gets to his knees, hatred coursing through his veins as he is forced to watch the defacing of his flag. The flag that he loves so dearly and that means so much to him. The world spins and tilts with each movement. "That's just low! You're a son-of-a-bitch England!"

England smirks. "What, it's not Arthur anymore? Don't worry, I'm doing you a favor you know. You'll be safe at my house. I'll make sure everything is taken care of. Your people... and especially you."

He presses his boot on America's back and forces him back to the ground. "Cheers love, you've been shanghaied."

He makes quick work of binding America's arms tightly behind his back and gagging him. The hardest part is getting him onto his feet and steady. America might be severely weakened, but he was still heavy as hell. He wouldn't be able to carry him all the way. He marches America out of his own house, steadying him to reduce the staggering as much as possible. The sun seems particularly bright as they enter the front yard. It strikes England as an excellent omen. America has started to struggle with renewed vigor.

"You always were obnoxiously persistent." He elbows him hard in the stomach. America doubles over and only England's grip on him keeps him from falling over. "I don't know why you insist on defying me. You belong to me now."

Suddenly a childish voice speaks from behind them, sending goosebumps across both of their bodies. "You're wrong. Both of you belong to _me_."

England and America are both grabbed tightly from behind and pulled into the broad chest of Russia. The two of them look up at him in horror. "R-Russia, what are you doing here?!"

Russia smiles sweetly. "Isn't it obvious? I'm going to become one with both of you."

America cries out against his gag and England tries to free his arms. Just then a new voice speaks up, making Russia freeze.

"Oh Nii-san, you're wrong. You see, you belong to me!" Belarus jumps on her brother's back, grabbing him around the neck. "Nii-san, I love you, marry me!"

Russia chokes as his air supply is cut off. His hands fly up to loosen his sister's grip on his neck. "B-Belarus, stop it!"

England quickly grabs Alfred and pulls him close. Where was their ride? After a quick glance around he finally spots it. Mustering all his strength he takes America in his arms and makes a run for it. Russia continues to struggle with Belarus. "Marry me Nii-san, forget those two. You have me!"

Russia reaches out towards the fleeing figures. "No, Belarus, no! They're getting away!"

Meanwhile England is struggling to get America onto a unicorn only he can see. Finally he throws him haphazardly over the side and jumps on the back. "Go now! Before the Russian gets free! Come my bride, I shall take you home! I'll even let you eat all the hamburgers you could possibly desire!" He lets out a boisterous laugh now that they were well on their way to escaping.

America's eyes bulge as they lift into the air and are taken away by invisible means. 'Bride, what the hell does he mean bride?! Damn you England you're going to pay for this! And what the hell am I riding?!'

As the two of them disappear Russia continues his struggle to push Belarus off. "They got away!"

"Marry me Nii-san! Marry me!"

Russia cries, his whole body shuddering. "Go hooooome!"

* * *

**AN**: Gotta say, I don't know what it is but I loves me some uke America. I also like a dominant England, particularly an unrequited love dominant England. See you soon!


	2. Chapter 2

The air is filled with the taste of despair. America has fallen. Alfred is powerless to stop other countries, many he had considered strong allies at one point, from scrambling to snatch up as much of his land as possible. His people are broken, poverty stricken, starving, lives completely at the whim of whoever had claimed the land on which they resided. All of them wonder where their hero is, beg him to come save them, hate him for not appearing. Obviously if he can't even save his own people he is no hero.

With a jolt America awakens and sits up in a strange bed. He swallows a sob and holds himself as he lets the aftereffect of the dream roll over him. And then, sweet relief. That's right, nothing more than a dream. His country had not befallen that fate yet. But where was he...?

It takes a moment but the second he remembers he is in England's house everything comes crashing back. He was currently England's captive, being kept in one of his spare bedrooms. The biggest bedroom in the house next to his own, England had been sure to tell him. America collapses back into the bed and stares at the ceiling. What was he going to do?

Escape is the first thing that came to mind. He actually knew England's house quite well. It's not like he couldn't get away. But for once he had to put a little thought into this. If he just left he still had to take into consideration where he would go. Should he go to Canada and talk to Matthew both about England's behavior and his money predicament? Or should he chance it with one of the closer countries like France? Would France give him up to England? It's not like the two of them were on the best of terms or even particularly liked one another. The only reason he thought Francis might help support his country is because he had expected England to convince him. Then of course, if he was willing to do some traveling there was Japan. Kiku could be of help, but no... For now he would concentrate on escaping and that was too far away. While his money issue was very pressing it would have to wait until he freed himself.

His best bet was a smaller European country that was less loyal to England but would still help him. His heart sinks a bit. He wasn't exactly very popular globally at the moment. He would have to be careful where he went. Once he was out of England's clutches he would go to Canada. Matthew would at least protect him if he asked him to. After all, he was his brother.

This thought brings his mind reluctantly to England. He had always thought of England as a father figure. Never anything romantic. He unconsciously wipes his mouth as the memory of yesterday comes back to him. As far as Alfred was concerned there had never been a hint from Arthur that he had any intimate or romantic feelings for him. If anything he had nagged and fought like a father would with a child. If he was obsessed with America it was news to him. This disturbs him all the more. How could he have hidden his true feelings and motives for so long? Was it because America never listened or really paid attention to anyone who wasn't himself? Yeah, that was probably a big part of it.

Still, what did England want with him? America thinks and mentally compiles the basic gist of what England had said yesterday. He gets the following: Arthur wanted him back in his house. He had said he would take care of him. He had told America he now belonged to him. He had called America his bride.

America sits up again, whole body shivering. "Dear God, he wants my body!"

There's a knock on the door. "I'm coming in."

The door swings open abruptly and England enters the room. "Good, you're awake. Did you sleep alright?"

America glowers at him. England glowers right back. "I want to have breakfast with you. Get out of bed."

America folds his arms, his pride rearing up. "Who died and made you god? Don't tell me what to do!"

England frowns and walks over to the bed. He puts a knee on the mattress and leans in, grabbing America's chin. "While you are in my house you will obey me. Stupid arrogant brat."

America bristles and brushes his hand away. "Don't treat me like a child!"

England continues to glare down at him. He had to establish dominance now. The sooner Alfred realized there was no way out and bowed to his will the better.

England looks over and notices America's glasses on the side table. He swipes them and examines them. "Well without these you certainly look like one."

America bristles. "Give Texas back!"

England leers at him. "Texas. Pft, I never did understand why you called them that. I wonder, what do you call this?" He grabs America's crotch. "Alaska?"

America flushes and punches England. "Fuck you!"

England rubs his jaw and stands. "I'll be taking 'Texas' with me. I expect you to be downstairs in ten minutes or I'll break them."

He briskly leaves, clearly angry. America grabs his pillow and punches it. "Fuck! Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck!"

He pulls the pillow until it threatens to rip then throws it to the floor. There had to be some way out of this. No, there was, and he would find it. He was America, land of the free after all. He could do whatever he put his mind to, even in his current shaky state.

With a great deal of resentment America finally stands and straightens his clothing. The bastard had already ripped up his flag. There was no way he was going to let him destroy Texas, too. Before he escaped he at least had to get them back.

America finds his way easily to England's dining room. He had come here every morning in his youth after all. England looks up as he enters. "Good, you're not completely unreasonable."

He stands and pulls out a chair, looking expectantly at America. Alfred, however, refuses to be compliant. He walks around and chooses another chair, sitting with crossed arms. England frowns at him but says nothing. He leaves the room and returns a minute later with two plates filled with food. He places one in front of America and moves an already poured mug of black tea next to it.

"Eat up." He sits back and starts in on his own.

America looks down at what he has been given. The plate is filled with bacon, eggs over easy, grilled tomatoes, toast, and sausage. Alfred feels his mouth water but chooses to ignore it. England notices the younger country's sulky defiance as he takes a sip of tea.

He feels a vein in his forehead pulse with annoyance. "Why aren't you eating?"

America shrugs. "You said you wanted to have breakfast with me. You never said I had to eat. And I don't want to eat your food of oppression. Besides, everyone knows your cooking sucks."

England slams his cup down, sloshing tea onto the tablecloth. "You always liked my cooking! You're just saying that because everyone else does!"

America turns his nose up. "Either way, I don't see why I should have to accept food from my captor."

England sputters. "You are such a moron! What possible good could come from not eating you damned idiot? But really, if you don't want to eat then go ahead and starve! See if I care you prick!"

He viciously attacks the rest of his food in silence. America continues to stare icily ahead. England is just about finished when America's stomach suddenly grumbles.

"...Well maybe just a bit." He reaches for his fork.

England just about blows. "Are you freaking kidding me? What was that big display if you're just going to eat anyway!?"

America takes a bite of bacon. "No reason to lose all my strength. Then how could I fight you off?"

England gives him a death glare and picks up his dirty dishes. "Fine!"

He storms into the kitchen and drops his dishes into the sink. A plate cracks and he curses loudly. Still... At least Alfred was eating. His mouth twitches into a small smile. America had never been able to say no to food after all. He fishes the broken glass out of the sink and throws it away. When he enters the dining room again America has almost wiped his plate clean.

"You should at least have coffee you know. You and your damned tea."

England snorts and sits down. "Coffee isn't good for you. Besides, tea is a gentleman's drink."

America rolls his eyes. "Whatever. So are hamburgers for lunch?"

England frowns. "Why would I want to eat those disgusting things?"

America points at him accusingly. "I distinctly remember you telling me I could have all the hamburgers my heart desired!"

"I was just swept up in the moment, that's all. Besides, it's not like you need them fatty!"

America smirks. "I'm not fat. Hero's aren't fat."

"Well you are," England snaps impatiently. America really was the bloodiest fool there was.

America leans his chin on his palm. "Well you have stupid eyebrows."

England stands, taken aback. "St-st-stupid!? You're stupid! You- You- They are not!"

America chuckles. "Whatever you say. Stupid eyebrows."

England violently grabs America's arm and pulls him to his feet. He jerks him through the house until they are at the front door. He releases America's arm and opens the door. America blinks.

England crosses his arms and gestures with his head. "Go ahead. I don't want to deal with your disrespect and your stupidity. If you want out so badly, go ahead and leave. But let me tell you what will happen if you do. My country will not help yours financially. In fact, I will do my damnedest to make sure no country assists you. And I'll let it leak that you are very weak right now. I'm sure China would be delighted to hear it. You need me. I can keep you and your country alive. But if you're so keen to deny that fact then walk out the door."

America is stunned for a moment. England was going to let him go? Just because he had said his eyebrows were stupid? No he supposes it must be more than that. He thinks it over and concludes it had something to do with his last sentence, denying he needed England and all that. Well, that suited him just fine.

He looks pointedly at England. "Give me Texas back and I'll be on my way."

England stares at him with a look of disgusted shock.

"Well, are you handing them over or not?" America holds his hand out.  
England grinds his teeth and slams the door violently shut.

"What did you do that for you bastard? You said I could leave!"

England throws his arms up in frustration. "Do you really have no brain? I suppose I shouldn't have expected reverse psychology to work on someone as dim as you! Any rational, _intelligent_ person would have heard what I said and realized that it was futile to leave. If you weren't so damned stupid you would be licking my boots with gratitude that I'm helping you the way I am."

America growls. "Oh I'm the stupid one am I? Why the hell would you think I need you? I haven't needed you for centuries! Sure it'll be hard if you stand in my way but I can do anything. I'm the hero after all!"

England shakes with rage. "You-! You always have to do everything yourself! Why can't you ever be weak? Damn it, you really piss me off!"

Without warning England charges at him, catching him around the stomach and knocking him to the floor. As America lays stunned and winded England grabs his shirt by the collar. "Listen to me Alfred, sooner or later you need to get this through your thick skull. As of now you are completely dependent on me. I will save your country but it will be at a price. You are mine. It doesn't matter how much you resist, I will never let you go. So help me God, I will throw you to the wolves if I have to but I would rather see you destroyed then have you leave my house again. So stop being so stubborn and just admit you need me!"

America stares up at him. Finally he speaks in a slow, clear voice. "I would rather die."

America's collar slips from England's grasp. He sits on top of him, silent. America considers pushing him off when there is suddenly movement. England places his hands on either side of America's head and smirks down at him. "Would you really? Well, it doesn't matter. One way or the other it doesn't... But you'll see. In good time you'll see that all your little grandstanding is for nothing."

He sits up again, stroking America's cheek softly. "If it's the last thing I ever do, I will make you speak those words."

He gets up off of America and adjusts his shirt. America sits up, glowering at him. England turns and smiles nastily. "I have important matters to attend to. If you behave yourself I'll return Texas to you tonight."

England starts to leave the room and pauses at the door. "By the way, there are precautions set in case you try to escape so don't think you can just waltz out the door. I really wouldn't recommend it."

Once England is well out of sight America stands. He stares at the front door. What kind of precautions might he have taken? While he is itching to get away as soon as possible those words had been a bit foreboding. Besides, he wanted to get Texas back. America decides that he could wait until tonight. Once he had gotten Texas he would sneak out of this place. He doubts Arthur could have set anything too difficult to overcome. It was England after all.

America sighs. So help me God, England had said. America has the feeling he needed God's help a great deal more.


	3. Chapter 3

America paces the small study-room for the dozenth time. He felt restless, like a caged animal. Hell, that's pretty much what he was. Time was crawling so slowly and he doesn't have the patience to let anything distract him. Even exploring rooms once familiar was irritating to him. Walking around England's house was nothing but an unpleasant nostalgia bomb. Even in his youth he had felt restricted by England. Why did the bastard insist on trying to tie him down time after time? Because he was attracted to him? This thought makes Alfred shudder.

"Come on, what's Arthur's problem? Seriously, how do you go from being like an annoying father to being a creepy stalker kidnapper?"

A falsely sweet, childish voice speaks behind him. "Having troubles with Father England, da? How about coming to Mother Russia instead?"

America jumps and whirls around. Russia smiles and pulls himself into the room through the window. Alfred gapes at him. "H-how did you get up here? This is the second floor!"

Russia smiles pleasantly. "Oh it was easier than you might think. How are you getting on then America?"

America backs up rapidly. He hits the back of his knees on the couch, causing him to sit down hard. "Er, I'm...What are you doing here?" He struggles to get into a proper sitting position and looks around to see how far the door is.

Before he can escape Russia quickly closes in on him, towering over him. "You seem nervous. Why is that?"

"Well I didn't exactly expect you to crawl in through the window. Of the second floor," America says trying to stall for time as he tries to calculate a way to get out of this mess. "You didn't answer my earlier question."

Russia gives off a menacing aura. "I suppose not. Obviously I'm here for you Alfred."

America laughs weakly and points to himself. "Me?"

Russia sighs. "Da. It's been more troublesome than I thought it would be. I had to come all the way out here after I lost you at your house. And I thought it had worked out so nicely. I had gone out to claim you and there was England at the same time. I thought it was my lucky day and I would get two for one. Belarus can be very frustrating sometimes. I was so close. England will have to wait now. I can't hope to overpower him in his own house. But you, you're a different story altogether aren't you America?"

A shiver goes down America's spine. "Why do you say that?"

Russia grins and grabs America's wrists, leaning over him. "Don't play coy Alfred. It doesn't suit your personality at all. Perhaps you were fooling the others but it is not so easy to fool me. I have been perfectly aware of your current situation, probably longer than you have. I've just been waiting, biding my time for the best opportunity to take you. I know that you are on the verge of collapse. It is the ideal time to become one with you. All will eventually become one with me but you are a country I wish to become one with in particular. What a great day indeed, eh comrade?"

Russia leans in and kisses America. America tries to pull back but Russia just moves in, refusing to break contact. Finally, furious, he bites Ivan's lip. Russia pulls back immediately. For a moment he almost seems to frown but then the smile is there again. He licks the bleeding wound. "Is that how you want it to be? Well we will have plenty of time to play at my house America. So very much time."

America struggles and kicks, trying to escape. It's all rather futile in his weakened state. Russia seems content to let him wear himself down. America lets out a frustrated growl. Why did he have to be so damned weak? He hates it. The look of malicious amusement on Russia's face makes him want to scream. Was this psycho really going to take him to his house? America was unhappy with his current situation but he has a feeling he was much better off with England than with Russia.

"Arthur!" He's not sure how loud his cry is or even if England would be able to hear him but it was better than nothing. "Arth-!"

Russia clamps his hand over America's mouth. "Hush now. Really, calling to him? How low you have fallen America."

Alfred swings at Ivan, catching him under the eye. Ivan seems less than concerned. "Such a fierce spirit, even when so close to ruin. It's something that I have always found entertaining about you." He grabs his free wrist again. "No calling out anymore or I'll make you regret it later. Now come along, it's time to go to your new home."

A loud bang shatters the oppressive mood of the room. Russia's head flies up, eyes drawn to the doorway where England stands holding two antique flintlocks.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing in _my_ house with _my_ property?"

Russia smiles casually. "Oh, hello England. How are you? Pleasant weather you're having."

England looks unamused. He raises the unfired flintlock. "Release Alfred and back away. Now."

Russia seems to weigh his options. The air feels electric as the tension mounts. Finally Russia's hands slip away from America's wrists. They twitch and curl, as if wrapping around a phantom pipe, then are still. "Such hostility seems rather unnecessary England. All you have accomplished is blowing a hole through your bookcase."

The bookcase behind Ivan is indeed a wreck after having been hit by the warning shot. England's eyes are hard. "Get out of here. If you don't start moving in five seconds I'll call Belarus over and let her know her precious Nii-san has considered marrying her."

Real panic seems to flash in Russia's eyes. He puts his hands up and shakes them. "Now, now, that really isn't- I mean, you don't want to call her here. I-"

England interrupts him. "Five. Four. Three-"

Ivan takes a step back. "I am going. Here, a peace offering." He digs in his pocket and pulls out a small bottle of vodka, placing it on a side table. "No need to call Belarus."

England is silent, his gun pointed unwaveringly at Russia. Looking put-out, Russia backs all the way up to the window. He finally waves. "So long England. And I hope to see you again very soon Alfred."

England glowers at Russia's intimate address to America. "Go!"

Russia smirks and crawls out the window and out of sight. America finally sits up. He rubs his wrists and lets out a sigh of relief. "Well that was traumatizing."

England walks to his side. "Are you alright? Did he hurt you? What did he say?"

America glares up at England, the concern on Arthur's face not lessening his anger in the least. "What exactly did you mean when you said _your_ property? Last time I checked I'm a hostage, not your chattel!"

England's concern immediately melts into annoyance. "How many times do I have to tell you that you are in fact my property now? Besides, you're the one who was calling out to me! I suppose a 'thank you' is far too much to ask."

America is slightly embarrassed that he had ended up calling out for him. "No matter how bad you are Russia had to be worse, that's all. I just can't believe you defended me with those ancient things. You still keep them loaded?"

England looks at his flintlocks. "Actually they were the first weapon I grabbed. I didn't even know they still worked. The fact that the first one fired was pretty shocking."

America points angrily at the bookcase. "What, you're saying you didn't know it was loaded? That could have been my head! Why should I thank an incompetent savior like you?"

"Whose incompetent?!"

America falls back on the couch. "I don't know Arthur, whose house did Russia just break into despite threats of 'precautions' scattered around the property?"

England flushes bright red. "Those are set to keep you in, not him out! Anyway, it would take more than that to keep Russia out. He's always getting into my house in weird ways..."

Arthur seems to be remembering another occasion but doesn't seem keen to share. America sighs. England was really starting to get worked up and if he wanted to get Texas back he had to keep him in a semi-decent mood. "Russia is the exception to the rule I suppose. Creepy bastard."

America stands and picks up the bottle of vodka. He rolls it between his hands for a moment then starts to shake the bottle so the contents slosh around. Finally he opens it and takes a drink. He cringes and makes a face. "Ugh that is strong stuff! Seriously, who would drink this?" He wipes his mouth and glares at the window.

England watches him. Finally he speaks softly. "He didn't hurt you though? At least let me know if he hurt you."

America makes a bitter face and puts the vodka down. "Just my pride. What's left of it." He walks out of the room, no longer able to face Arthur.

England lets him go. Why couldn't he have at least said thank you?

~.

America finishes his dinner without a word of complaint. He would never admit it but it had actually been pretty good. England had been extremely quiet since the Russia incident. Still, America doesn't think he's given him anything to complain about. It wasn't like it was his fault Russia had broken into his house. If anything Alfred was the victim. He hadn't asked Russia to come take him away. A small shiver travels up his spine just thinking about it. Hopefully Russia wouldn't intercept him while he was trying to escape. There was no guarantee he could hold him off.

America looks up and sees that England is staring off into space, looking deep in concentration. Alfred sighs and leans back, tapping on the table.

Tap tap tap tap tap tap tap tap tap tap tap tap tap tap tap ta-

"Would you cut that out you wanker?!"

England glares at him from across the table. America beams at him. "Well, now that I've gotten your attention..." He holds his hand out expectantly.

England glances down at his hand then back up. "What?"

America starts to frown. "Texas. You said I could have them back tonight if I behaved."

England slams his fist onto the table. "Are those stupid glasses all you care about!?"

America stands and shoves his hand forward insistently. "A promise is a promise!"

There is a long pause. Finally England stands up and walks around the table. He looks huffily up at America then pokes his chest. "I will decide when I give them back. I probably would have given them to you tonight but because you're being such a brat about it I think I'll make you wait."

England turns to leave. America grabs his arm. "Where do you think you're going? You can't just walk away!"

England turns again and grabs America's chin. "I can do whatever the hell I want. Don't forget whose house you're in."

America releases England's arm and pulls away, giving him the dirtiest look he can manage. England smirks. "Have a good night Alfred. It's a big day tomorrow so try to get some sleep."

America watches him go, his blood boiling. Once England is out of the room he turns and kicks a chair over. "Bastard! Lying bastard!"

For a long moment he considers turning the table over then thinks better of it. That would just bring England back. 'So it seems he won't be giving Texas back anytime soon. I have a feeling he'll have them indefinitely after I made such a big deal of them. Bad move on my part. And what did he mean tomorrow would be a big day? I can't even imagine what he could be planning for me.' He shudders. 'Right... So I guess I'll have to forget Texas for now. I have to get out of here tonight.'

~.

It is well past midnight when America decides to make his move. The house has been quiet for the past few hours. England was obviously confident enough in his supposed precautions that he hadn't taken any steps to lock America in. All the better for him. Let the shrimp think he was all in control.

America zips up his bomber jacket and gives his reflection in the mirror a thumbs up. "Alright, let's do this."

Leaving through the front door is Alfred's first thought but he quickly dismisses it. Even Arthur was competent enough to put something there. He decides to take a page out of Russia's book and climb out his window. There was a tree right outside of it and by the looks of it he would be able to climb down it pretty easily.

When he opens the window a cold breeze brushes back his hair, rushing into his room. He clutches at the collar of his coat as he sizes up the tree. Even in the dark America is able to plan a safe trip down.

He glances one last time behind him just to check if the coast was clear. He salutes the empty bedroom. "So long England. Have a nice life you creep."

With great care Alfred crawls onto the branch closest to his window. This would be a piece of cake for him. Really it was like Arthur was asking him to escape. America navigates his way down the tree with only a slip up here or there. Nothing he can't recover from in a seconds time. Finally he makes the last drop and his feet are on solid ground. America silently punches the air in victory. He was going to make it. He takes his first step towards freedom when he feels the first stab of pain.

America grabs the back of his neck and whirls around. There is nothing there. He takes an unsteady step backwards. He could have sworn something had just stabbed the back of his neck. It must have just been his imagination...

Another stab of pain, this time in his calf. "Ow!"

He whirls around again, straining his eyes to see in the dark. He hadn't imagined that.

"Ouch!" More pricks of pain, this time multiple ones on his back and on his arm. No matter which way he looks Alfred can't see anything that would be causing these phantom pains. "Who's out there? Show yourself!"

For a moment there is silence and then he is affronted with an all out assault. It feels like Alfred is being stabbed, pushed, kicked, jabbed, and otherwise beaten from all sides. Something hits him in the nose while another thing jabs him in the ribs. He cries out, swinging his arms, but how can he defend himself against what he can't see? This invisible barrage continues relentlessly until something pushes him over. America lands on the ground with a thud, staring up at the night sky in a daze.

Suddenly a shadow falls across him and something big leans over him. "Well laddie, been a while since Ah seen ye. Looks like the fairies did a right number on ye, aye?"

America blinks in surprise. "....Scotland?"

* * *

**AN: **Haha yes oc Scotland specifically for my dear friend who is greatly saddened by his lack of existence in the Hetalia world. Scotland would still be in England's house. He should seriously exist. He'd be hilarious. (I should know, we've had many conversations about what he'd be like and the events that would occur around him) And you remember that Scotsman from Samurai Jack? He speaks in my head when I write Scotland -laughs-

And the event to which England is referring to is when he summons the 'ultimate evil' and Russia appears. Kills me every time.


	4. Chapter 4

Scotland grins down at America. "Well it sure ain't Ireland, Ah'll tell ye that much. Lucky bastard got his freedom ages ago." The big man leans down and grabs hold of America by the shoulders and hoists him up to his feet. America stumbles then steadies himself.

"What are you doing here? Oh... I guess you haven't gained your independence yet have you?"

Scotland growls. "That bloody England. He's seduced my people he has! But someday we shall stand proud and alone like we once did! It's a day Ah dream about often. Ah'm sure ye remember me talkin' about it." He sniffles and wipes a tear away. "But enough about me, ye can' be doin' too good yerself if ye're here in England's house. Then again it's kind a nice te have ye back. Been a bit empty in England's house fer ages."

America puts his hands on his hips. He does suppose the number of countries in England's house had been dwindling over the ages. It must have been pretty full at one point.

"Is Wales still around?"

"Oh aye. Lil' whelp," Scotland mutters as he starts to lead America back towards the house.

"How come I haven't seen you guys around? Not even on the occasions I would pop by in the past." America tries to walk as slowly as possible. Scotland had always been kind to him as a child. Could he convince Scotland to let him go?

"Oh England likes to keep us out o' sight. Ah think it's a mixture of embarrassment an apathy." Scotland shakes his head. "That wee nyaff is always doin' weird things. Ignores us most the time unless he has some kind of task fer us."

Maybe it was best to ask now while Scotland was in a resentful mood against England. Granted he was in a resentful mood towards England just about all of the time. "That's a damn shame. He really has no consideration for other people. I just asked him for assistance with my country and he's gone and kidnapped me!"

Scotland raises an eyebrow. "Ye don' say?"

America stops dead in his tracks and starts to speak in a quick, hushed voice. "Please Scotland, let me go. Surely you of all people appreciate the need to be free? I have to escape him and get away so I can get help. Please. I'll... I'll do my best to help you out if you do. Once I get back on my own feet," he adds reluctantly.

Scotland stops and scratches the back of his head. His blazing red hair is a tangled mess. "Well, Ah'd like te help ye laddie, Ah really would but... England already knows about this. One of those pesky fairies told him. Ah'm sure he's coming now."

America sighs and crosses his arms. "What happened to all your fighting spirit?" He grumbles under his breath.

Scotland turns a fierce look his way. "What was tha? I didnae quite hear ye."

America laughs. "Ah, I, so what were those... fighting spirits... that attacked me? I mean, what kind of technology is England hiding? Even I don't have invisible weapons. Some kind of mini-bots or lasers or what? Now that I think about it I got here on some kind of invisible vehicle too."

Scotland lets out a booming laugh. "Ah told ye lad, it's the fairies. More magic than weaponry. Yer a funny one though, that hasnae changed."

America sulks. He's sure that 'fairies' must be some kind of code word and Scotland was just refusing to let him in on the secret.

Scotland seems to misinterpret the look on America's face. "Ah, now don' get down. It's nae that embarrassing. Hard te fight against 'em when ye can' see 'em. Even Ah have troubles with the wee bastards." He smacks America hard enough on the back to almost send him flying. "Cheer up, if ye're persistent ye're sure to regain independence. Ye did it once before aye? Ah'll be rooting fer ye! Remember, nothing can crush yer pride if ye don' let it!"

America smiles weakly, rubbing his back. "Thanks Scotland."

"Yes, thank you Scotland. You can go now." England stands a few feet away at the front door. He's wearing a bathrobe and a look of displeasure.

Scotland scowls at England then turns to look down at America. "Ye hold on laddie."

With that he disappears into the night. America watches him go then turns slowly to face England. He gestures with the jerk of his head for America to get back in the house. America buries his hands in the pockets of his coat and walks past England without looking at him once, resembling a teenager that had just been caught sneaking out. He hears the door close behind him.

"You didn't believe me did you? I told you I had ways of keeping you here. Maybe you won't be so quick to go rushing off next time, hm?"

America grunts in response. He was irritated that England had gotten the better of him once again. He starts to walk towards the stairs.

England's voice halts him. "And where do you think you're going?"

America turns his head back. "To go to my room. Don't worry, I'll be a good boy and stay there." He can't hide the tinge of bitterness.

A slow smirk crawls onto England's face. "Oh really? I don't think so. Knowing you, you have far from given up. I think it is necessary to keep a closer eye on you. Therefore you will be sleeping with me tonight."

Alfred flushes angrily. "Like hell I will! There's no way I would do something like that!"

England frowns and slips something out of the pocket of his red robe. "Well then...I wonder if this could persuade you?"

He unfolds Texas, making sure America has a good look at what they are. Then he starts to apply pressure to the hinges. The glasses creak. Alfred rushes forward to rescue them. England quickly slips them back in his pocket even as America grabs his shoulder. "Don't you dare break them!"

England looks up at him with a sly smile. "Then sleep with me tonight."

For a second America almost decks that smug face. God knows the bastard deserved it. Instead he lets him go. "Fine, but only if you swear on your life that you'll give me my damn glasses back in the morning. And no changing your mind!"

Arthur shrugs. "Hmph. Fair enough."

He walks past America. "Come along then."

America follows reluctantly as England takes him through the house and to his bedroom. America looks around it. It is simultaneously familiar and alien. Things had changed since he had lived there, things had stayed the same. Arthur slips off his robe and hangs it up in the closet.

He struggles to hide how pleased he is. 'Finally, I got America into bed! I bet the idiot will be on his guard though. No doubt he'll insist on sleeping fully clothed.'

England turns around and is stricken with surprise as he watches America strip down to his boxers without a second thought. 'Is he just an idiot!?'

Alfred looks up and notices Arthur staring at him. He points and laughs at his plaid button up pajamas. "Those are hilarious! You seriously sleep in those?"

England flushes. "You have a problem with that?! At least I wear _something_ to bed!"

America rolls his eyes. "This is comfortable. You're such a prude."

He slips into the covers. "Hm, this is a nice bed. Oh! Don't even think of trying anything funny! My reflexes are like a fox and I'll break your neck if you even touch me! My warning level is on red so you better watch yourself!"

England swallows hard and hides his blush by turning off the light. "You make me sound like some old lecherous pervert!"

He gets in the bed, far more nervous than America seems to be. He can't even bring himself to lie any other way than turned from America. "Night."

America makes some indistinct sound. The two lie in the bed, neither moving. America stares up into the darkness. He had to remain alert, couldn't let himself fall asleep. He just had to get through the night and he'd have Texas and could figure out Super Awesome Escape Plan Two!! His mind wanders over the day, particularly getting stuck on the Russia incident.

'Now that I think about it, what did Russia want from me?' He sums up what had taken place with Russia and gets the following: Russia had wanted to take him to his house. He wanted to become one with him. He _really _wanted to become one with him. He had kissed him. He had told him there was lots of time to play with him at his house after Alfred had bitten him.

America's heart nearly stops when it all clicks together. 'Er-! He wants my body too!'

"Noooooo!"

England sits up angrily. "What are you screaming about? Shut up you twit, people are trying to sleep!"

America buries his head in his pillow, near tears. It would take a stronger force than God to save him at this rate.

England lies back in bed, heart hammering. 'What is that bloody fool's problem? Scared me half to death!'

Once England calms down he starts to think about just how close America is. Only a matter of a few feet separated their bodies. No matter what Alfred said Arthur knew him well enough to know that if the idiot fell asleep he would be dead to the world. That would be the opportune moment to make some kind of move. Even if he had to wait until the crack of dawn for him to fall asleep he would do it for sure.

Twenty minutes later: The soft snores of America begin to fill the room and England sits up. 'Are you kidding me? You fell asleep already you moron?! What would you do if I was someone else? Be more responsible!'

He blinks. His eyes had perfectly adjusted to the dark and the small amount of light spilling in from the window perfectly illuminates Alfred's bare chest. England's heart flutters. With uncertain fingers he reaches up and starts to unbutton his night shirt. He shrugs it off and lets it fall blindly on the floor beside the bed.

Slowly, so as not to disrupt the bed too much, England crawls closer to America. His face looks so sweet and lovely, completely unconcerned in its state of sleep. With a shaky hand Arthur reaches out and hesitantly caresses his cheek. The other country does not even twitch. He lets out a breath he wasn't even aware he was holding. So America did still sleep like a log. He moves carefully until he is straddling America. He gathers his courage and starts to lean down. Just as his lips are about to make contact Alfred speaks.  
"I... love..."

England's face flushes. It feels like he can't breath. "Y-you love...?"

Suddenly America gets a goofy grin. "I love... you....ice cream." He pulls England close in his sleep, pressing Arthur's face into his chest.

England freezes. On one hand he is very happy to be so close to Alfred. On the other hand he is pissed that he had been mistaken for ice cream and that he was currently in the position of the helpless maiden.

He forces himself up again after a slight struggle against the vice grip he is put in and kisses America. He pulls away and sees that the face beneath him has lost its goofy expression. The expression that replaces it is far from displeasure. Encouraged, England kisses him again. And again. How long he had longed, ached, to feel America's lips pressed to his own, his body beneath him. He wanted him. And here he was. A dream scenario. Of course it would be even more perfect if he would-

America sleepily returns a clumsy kiss. An electric jolt goes through England's whole body and he lets out a low moan. He tries it again, heart pounding, and once more America absentmindedly kisses him back. England's face flushes even deeper. He has no idea what Alfred is dreaming of and quite frankly he doesn't care. He deepens the kiss and revels as America participates, even if he is unaware of it. He pulls back, a thin strain of saliva trailing after him. A soft flush has rouged America's cheeks. He grabs America's wrist and leans in for another kiss.

However, America's face immediately changes to a cringe and he turns his head. "N-no.. Russia..." England releases America and sits up. 'What? How dare you mistake me for that guy!'

America pulls his arms up protectively. "Please... no, stop." England notices that America has started trembling beneath him.

Arthur sighs and his anger crumbles. He gets off of America and instead lies beside him. He pulls Alfred to his chest, hugging him. "It's okay."

America resists at first. "No..."

England rubs his back soothingly. "It's alright, nothing will hurt you as long as I'm here."

America seems to relax. Very slowly he uncurls from his protective stance and clutches Arthur. He nuzzles against him, his face untroubled once more. England takes a deep breath. Well, it wasn't quite what he was planning but he couldn't deny he was pleased how this had ended up. He runs his fingers fondly through America's hair.

"Good night Alfred."

"Good night... ice... cream."

Arthur sighs, but the smile lingers even once he falls asleep.

~.

England wakes up slowly. It's very warm. He flexes his fingers and they brush smooth skin. He freezes. What...? That was right, America. He was sleeping with America. Was it possible the two were still in an embrace? England's heartbeat accelerates. How would Alfred react if he awoke to discover his arm around Arthur? Or Arthur's arm around him? He'd probably freak out and punch him. But just maybe he could... he could...

England opens his eyes. The morning light momentarily blinds him and he has to blink away the sun spots that dance in his vision. Finally it clears and he sees...Alfred's face.

England closes his eyes, confused. Surely he had seen wrong? He slowly opens one eye and sure enough America is lying across from him. But if that was the case than who was he lying on? He looks up and sees the sleeping face of France.

"AUUUUGGGHHHHHH!" England pushes violently away from him and sits up. "Hey! What do you think you're doing in my bed? Why are you shirtless? Wake up you twat!"

France opens his eyes and smiles sweetly up at England. "Bonjour, l'amour! Est-ce que maintenant on va aller déjeuner au buffet-brunch?"

He looks down at the still sleeping form of America and ruffles his hair. "He may join us."

England throws himself on France and starts strangling him. "Damn it Francis you perverted freak! Who said you could crawl into bed with us? Bastard!"

France pulls at England's hands. "C-come on Arthur, can't you take a joke?"

America sits up and rubs his eyes sleepily. He stares at France and England struggling and cussing at one another on the bed. He contemplates just trying to go back to sleep and pretending he hasn't seen this but he fears it is far too late...

* * *

**AN: **America strikes me as the type who speaks and does things in his sleep which is one of the reasons I love him so.

French Translation: Good morning, lover! Shall we now go have breakfast at the brunch buffet?

nyaff- irritating person


	5. Chapter 5

Hey! I just want to apologize for the bad French in the last one... Hopefully it's better in this one as I had help from actual people.

* * *

France laughs cheerfully, massaging the new bruises England had given him. "Désolé , sorry, you just looked so cozy in bed all snuggled up together I couldn't resist joining. It was making me jealous."

He winks and America shivers. "As if! I would never snuggle up to that guy!"

England snorts and says under his breath, "Oh you'd do more than that."

America looks at him. "What was that?"

England dismisses him with the wave of a hand. "Nothing. Go to your room. I'll have Scotland bring you something to wear."

America looks at England and France with a sharp eye. "Speaking of clothes when did you take off your nightshirt? And why aren't you wearing one at all France?"

England coughs. "It got hot."

France throws his arms around England's shoulders. "Oh America, being in your embrace made me sooo hot I could barely contain myself!"

Arthur punches him. "Shut your fool mouth Francis! And why exactly aren't you wearing one? Huh? What's your excuse?"

France tuts. "You have no sense of romance. If there is anything more romantic than two men embracing shirtless in bed it is surely three such lovely creatures, skin to skin. Do you not agree?"

America and England yell almost simultaneously, "No!"

Arthur rubs his temples. "Jesus you're fucking annoying. Alfred, get to your room already!"

Alfred glowers at him. "Don't tell me what to do perverted midget!"

"What was that?! I am not a midget!"

France laughs. "So good to see you two still get along despite current events."

America hurls a pillow at France. "I'll be going now, just because I can't stand being around either of you!"

He snatches up his clothes and storms out of the room, slamming the door behind him. England simmers. "He's still such a child! Always throwing fits!"

Francis laughs and pats his shoulder. "Well, you raised him the best you could but he never was gentlemen material."

England lifts an eyebrow at France's hand. "Don't touch me."

France removes his hand and sits on the bed. "So cold. Are you pouting because I ruined your lovey dovey time with your new toy? What were you hoping for? That he would awaken to find himself entwined in your arms and his heart would start to beat with wild abandon?"

England flushes. "Shut up!"

France smirks. "I know you too well old friend. Though you're much more of a weak romantic these days. In your younger days he would have already been conquered by you. And I do speak specifically of the bedroom department above all others."

England crosses his arms and turns away. "Well, the follies of youth. I am a different person than I once was."

France bites the knuckle of his pointer finger for a moment and stares at the door. "Either way you have quite the lovely catch. I'm envious that you got a hold of him while he was vulnerable."

Arthur turns a sharp look his way. "And what is that supposed to mean?"

France laughs and brushes back his hair. "I was just teasing Arthur, really. Sorry I came so early by the way. I had nothing better to do. I suppose we have a little bit of time before Matthew shows up don't we?"

England nods. "Yes. Get your shirt on and get out. Go entertain yourself will you? I need to get dressed and get ready."

France stands and grabs his shirt up from off of the ground. "Right, right. Don't take too long mon cher!"

England shakes his head in disgust. "You are an unbearable nancy-boy."

France smiles sweetly back. "Ton père est gay et ta mère est putain."

England grumbles a few more insults under his breath and France chuckles and walks casually out the door. It closes behind him with a soft click. He is quite certain he has an excellent idea of how to kill some time.

~.

Alfred walks towards his room, still in his boxers. He can't believe it. What a sad day in his usually very triumphant life that such a grand hero as himself would have to suffer through the humiliation of somehow getting stuck in bed with two perverted pricks. He rubs his head. Had he really been....snuggling—the thought makes him shudder just thinking it—with England? Surely France was just saying that to be obnoxious. Admittedly he had dropped the ball, falling asleep so quickly. However, he thinks his body would respond with violence if it was being molested. Besides, it wouldn't react positively to Arthur, no chance in the world. Alfred feels somewhat reassured. He's also positive he had a very weird dream involving ice cream and Russia but that was probably just nerves.

He suddenly stops dead. "Shit!"

In the chaos caused by France he had completely forgotten to get Texas back from England. Who knew how long it would be now. He'd undoubtedly use it as an excuse to hold them for ransom longer. It seemed there was just no winning.

"Stupid Francis...What was he doing here anyway?" America vaguely begins to recall that Arthur had told him today was going to be a big day. He pauses and lets all the possibilities of what that could mean when added together with France run through his head. His whole body shudders and he puts a hand over his mouth. 'I think I'm going to be sick.'

He finally reaches his room and furiously begins plotting. At this point Texas was definitely getting left behind. Their sacrifice would be remembered for generations to come. Then how to get past all the damn invisible technology? How could he fight against something he couldn't see or understand? That was the real tricky part. But he could do it! Because damn it, he was America!

There is suddenly a knock at the door. "Oi, laddie, it's Scotland."

America sighs in relief. He had become weary of visitors. "Come in."

Scotland enters, a few articles of clothing thrown over his arm. "That daft prick asked me te bring these te ye."

America looks at them disdainfully. "Of course it would be a suit. What's wrong with what I'm wearing?"

Scotland raises an eyebrow. "Well it don' cover much up."

America flushes as he realizes he hadn't actually ever put any of his clothes back on. "N-not this! I mean my outfit. Don't you have anything closer to what I wear? Casual slacks or jeans, t-shirts? I hate wearing suits!"

Scotland rubs his chin thoughtfully. "Well, Ah believe that other than ol' military uniforms that's about all we got that'd fit ye. Ye could always borrow something from me. Might be a wee bit big on ye."

America takes in Scotland's traditional Scottish attire. As much as he hated suits there was no way he was wearing a kilt. "Er, no thanks. I'll just wear what I've been wearing."

Scotland sighs and takes a seat beside him. "Suit yerself. So he didn' do anythin' too shameful te ye did he?"

America starts unfolding his clothes, shaking out wrinkles. "Well...Er, according to France we....were....snuggling. NOT!" He clears his throat. "Not that I believe him in the least! As if I would snuggle with him, even in my sleep!"

Scotland nods. "Course that wouldnae stop him from cozying up next te ye."

America flushes. "You think he did that?"

"Oh aye."

America grabs his head. "Gah! What am I going to do?! I can't take all this sexual harassment! My pride as a man is being threatened!"

Scotland growls softly. "Oh, bein en this place will certainly do that te ye..." Suddenly his face contorts. "Wait, can we back up a few sentences? Did ye say France?"

"Um, yeah. He was in the bed with us when we woke up. England was strangling him and yelling. That image will haunt me for years. Why do you ask?"

Scotland suddenly looks away, trembling slightly. "So France is here..."

Alfred gives him a puzzled look. "Yes."

It finally comes back to him. He hits his palm with his fist. "Oh that's right, France is your ex, isn't he?" (see AN)

Scotland turns to him with a look of utter revulsion and fury on his face. "Do nae even say it."

America looks away. "Right, right..."

He slips his shirt on then his pants. "Hey... Scotland, I know last night you couldn't really help me out but I was wondering...Now that England is distracted could you-"

Suddenly the door bursts open. "Greetings ange~! Did you miss me? But of course you did!"

France laughs loudly. It dies when he notices Scotland sitting on the bed, giving him a death glare. "Oh, bonjour Scotland. How are you doing these days?"

Without saying a word Scotland stands and walks straight up to France, putting his hands on his shoulders. France looks up at him in surprise. "A-ah, Scotland-"

Scotland head butts him then flees the room with suspiciously misty eyes.

France rubs his forehead, supporting himself against the wall. "C'était douloureux! Quelle brute. You know, I've come to think that Scotland is particularly hostile towards me... I wonder why? Perhaps my ethereal beauty?"

America snorts. "I think you have a very convenient memory, Frenchy."

France crosses his arms, giving America a very haughty look. "C'était impoli de dire. I have no idea what you could mean."

America rolls his eyes, not believing he's getting into this conversation. "He's pissed for obvious reasons! You're just egotistical and don't think of anyone's feelings but your own."

France perks a brow. "Ah, as if you are not the same?"

America glares at him. "I've never been oblivious to someone's feelings!"

France laughs heartily. "Oh no mon cher? I find that a rather hilarious claim as you have spent most of your young life as a country not listening to anyone but yourself."

The air gets decidedly icy at this statement. "Fuck you! I'm awesome, I'm always helping people out!"

France clicks his tongue. "Ah, but that is rather different then being sensitive to the feelings of others. You have always continued onwards without much regard for the feelings of those involved. And you are completely oblivious. If you want a solid example just look at Arthur. Never expected to get in this situation, hmmm?"

Alfred flushes. "There was no way I could ever know about this!"

France winks, the superior effect somewhat ruined by the bruise that was blooming on his forehead. "I've known for ages."

America grinds his teeth. "Well, how lovely for you! I suppose you think this is all very hilarious, don't you?"

"Oh oui. But really Alfred, I'm not here to fight."

That was right, America had no idea what was going on. "What exactly are you here for?"

France wags a finger. "C'est un secret. Which in your detestable language means 'it's a secret'."

Alfred narrows his eyes. "I worked it out, thanks. And English is way more badass than French."

Still, this did not lesson his anxiety. Somehow 'a secret' seemed even more potentially menacing then simply not knowing.

France smirks as he watches America gloomily contemplate what could be in store for him. "How about we retire downstairs? We can entertain ourselves until your brother comes."

At this America looks up, face shining with surprise and hope. "Matthew is coming here? When? I can talk to him?"

Francis puts his arm around Alfred's shoulders. "Oui. Soon. Would you like to wait with me? That increases your chances of getting to see him..."

While America would usually punch France for touching him, he is willing to allow it for now if it meant reaching Canada. It was his one shiny beacon of hope in what had moments ago seemed like an endless dungeon of despair. "Sure, sure, I'd be glad to kill some time with you Francis."

France smiles brilliantly. "Charming. Come along then Alfred."

The two make their way downstairs. America is absolutely buzzing from this new information. Finally, finally he would have an ally that could help him get free. Just as he had suspected, there didn't seem to be much chance France would help. Especially if he knew about it and simply seemed amused. A chill overcomes his heart. Surely...Matthew didn't know did he...? He wouldn't let this happen, right? No! Absolutely not, Alfred firmly decides. Whatever England was planning, he would alert Matthew to his scheme and Canada would surely help him escape.

France opens the doors to a drawing room and stands aside. "You first."

He walks past France and sits on a love seat. "So how soon should Matthew be arriving?"

France closes the doors behind him, a small smile on his face. "Oh, it is hard to say. Soon, I'd think."

America nods, impatient now that a way out was so close at hand.

France walks around the room, casually looking at things. "Hmm, I wonder, would you like to see a trick Alfred? I learned it from Germany the other day."

America turns and rests his chin on the top of the love seat. "From Germany? I decline. Knowing him it's something kinky."

France shrugs. "Oh well, for the best. Apparently if you're too stupid it turns out badly. We wouldn't want anything bad happening to you now would we? Arthur would never forgive me."

Alfred sits up, hands clutching the top of the small couch. "Now hold on a second! I'm not an idiot! I can prove it, go ahead and show me!"

France has his back to America, as if examining something on a shelf, to hide his ever growing smirk. "Very well, but now that you've agreed there's no backing out, promise?"

America nods firmly. No way he was going to let France make him look stupid. He stands and approaches France to further show his commitment.

France practically sparkles as he turns and pulls out a pair of handcuffs from who knew where. The silver loops rest on his thumbs as he holds them out for America to see. "England has all sorts of fun toys if you know where to look."

America takes a step back. "What the fuck France? You aren't going to use those are you?"

France laughs and takes a step forward. "But of course mon cher, they are part of the trick. You said you weren't going to back out, remember?"

Beads of sweat appear on America's forehead and he swallows hard. What had he just gotten himself into?

* * *

Translations:

Désolé-sorry

Ton père est gay et ta mère est putain-Your father is gay and your mother's a whore.

ange-angel

C'était douloureux! Quelle brute-That was painful! What a brute

C'était impoli de dire-How rude of you to say

**AN**: Historical note: Scotland and France were once close allies who fought against England under the Auld Alliance. They also shared some monarchs. However, when England overtook Scotland France pretty much turned its back on them. Thus the mention of them being ex-lovers and the hostility Scotland feels towards France (the characters). Today Scotland and France (the actual countries) are on friendly terms from what I've read but I can't confirm it personally.


	6. Chapter 6

America laughs sheepishly. "Oh come on France, what kind of trick could you possibly perform with handcuffs?"

France smirks. "All sorts. Many magicians use handcuffs, non? You aren't afraid are you?"

America immediately puffs up defensively. "Of course not! Just tell me what to do, I can handle it."

"Magnifique! Now turn around, put your hands behind your back and close your eyes."

America swallows hard again. He was justifiably nervous about this. Only a fool would allow himself to be handcuffed by France. Unfortunately, America was just that fool. He finally turns and closes his eyes. He feels France take hold of his wrist and fasten the first cuff. It clicks merrily, the metal cold on his skin. Then the second cuff is fastened into place. France gives the chain a slight tug and America takes an involuntary step backwards. "Fini!"

America cracks an eye open. "Okay, now what do I do?"

France claps his hands in delight. "That's it!"

America turns, face livid. "What do you mean that's it? What kind of trick is this?"

"The 'trick' is not to be stupid enough to get yourself stuck in a pair of handcuffs." With that France bursts into violent laughter. "Stupide America!"

Blood rushes to America's face as he realizes how by trying to not look like an idiot he had looked like even more of one. He pulls violently, straining the muscles in his arms, gritting his teeth. Usually he would be able to snap the chain with no effort. Now, however, it remains firmly, frustratingly unbroken. "Take these off now you piece of shit!"

France, doubled over with laughter, simply shakes his head. "Non mon petit, your foolishness must be punished. Go ahead and take a seat. I'll let you free when Matthew arrives."

America gives France a hateful look but knows he brought it upon himself. "Fine, but I will get you back for this!"

France pinches his cheek. "Whatever you say."

America pulls away and returns to the love seat, trying to make himself comfortable despite having his hands pinned behind him.

France sits next to him, much to his annoyance. "Well, what shall we talk about I wonder?"

Alfred snorts. "As if I care."

France taps his chin in mock pondering. "Well in that case, how was your night with England? Did he try anything dangereux?"

America scowls. "Not that interesting despite what you seem to think. And no. As far as I'm concerned absolutely nothing happened between the two of us. In fact the only thing odd about it was that I had a very weird dream. It started out being about ice cream. It was so awesome at first, all the ice cream I could ever want. Then it started getting really weird. I think.... I started making out with the ice cream? And then it turned into Russia and he was trying to... er, be forceful with me. But then the ice cream returned and saved me. So it ended on a good note at least. I can assure you that was the most thrilling part of my night."

France stares at him then starts laughing. "What a stupid dream! Truly. I can't help but wonder why you would dream of Russia trying to violate you though. Intrigue!"

America coughs. "N-no! It's not... Well he sort of did try to...Recently. It has nothing to do with anything else!"

France smiles. "Well, to be honest I don't blame him. How often does one get the chance to take advantage of America? I'm a bit tempted myself."

He touches America's knee. Alfred's eyes narrow and he pulls it away. "That's not funny Francis."

France suddenly flips over onto America, his knees on either side of Alfred, sitting in his lap. He leans in close and touches America's hair. "You know what I think is funny mon chéri? That one of your greatest icons of freedom and independence is a French woman."

America jerks away from his touch. "What the hell are you talking about?"

France laughs softly. "Have you really forgotten that your precious Lady Liberty was a gift from none other than moi?"

America lifts his head proudly. "She may have come from France but Lady Liberty is American through and through!"

France clicks his tongue. "Well there's nothing wrong with having some French in anything really..."

He leans forward and proceeds to French kiss America, forcing a thumb between America's teeth to keep him from biting his tongue.

Flustered by the sudden attack, America clamps down his teeth anyway. He might not be able to push him away or bite the bastard's tongue off but he could at least do some damage.

France finally pulls away and wipes at the saliva at the edge of his mouth as he examines his bleeding thumb. "Ouch, that hurt America. You should be more gentle."

He sucks on the digit as he continues to smirk down at Alfred. "You really do look cute without your glasses. You were so sweet when you were young. Arthur should have taken advantage of you then. What a selfish idiot, keeping someone as adorable as you all to himself and not even taking full advantage."

France tugs at America's belt. "I would have gotten much more use out of you. Before you became such a stubborn snot."

America attempts to push him off using his upper body. France laughs and pushes him back against the couch. "Why don't you just relax. After all, we only have time for a quickie. You won't have to endure it for long. Might as well enjoy it. I know I will."

Francis bites his lower lip as he unfastens America's belt and slips the button of his jeans from its hole. He slips his free hand under his shirt and runs it up his torso, pausing to tweak a nipple. Alfred shivers unpleasantly. "Get the fuck off you pervert! I swear I'm going to-unh!"

France hums as he slips his other hand into America's pants. "I really like this more subdued, weaker you, America. It's so convenient. I've wanted to play with you for such a long time."

He kisses America's neck. America squirms this way and that, trying to ignore France's hand rubbing against him. He didn't want to acknowledge the embarrassing reaction he was having to it.

"C-cut it out France! If England finds out what you're doing he-"

France tweaks his nipple again. "That's why it's called a quickie mon amour. We'll be done before Arthur comes looking for us. And somehow I have a feeling your pride will keep you from explaining what happened. Especially when it would mean admitting how much your body is responding. And it is responding Alfred."

The stimulus was causing intense complications for America. Even knowing it was the filthy Frenchmen didn't seem to save him. America furiously works his hands this way and that behind his back. If he could only get free...France licks his neck and America shivers. "Stop it you sicko! If you don't stop I'm going to- Nnnn!"

France laughs again. "Oh my sweet, you can deny it all you want with your mouth but your body knows what it wants and it wants me. May I compliment it on its excellent taste?"

He roughly grabs America and forces another French kiss on him when he lets out a low moan. Too much tongue. Too much saliva. Too much goddamn France!

France pulls back, licking America's bottom lip lightly. "Now I shall give you the privilege of knowing the unrestrained extents of what it is to be loved by the French."

Francis winks and starts to unfasten his own pants when there is a hesitant knock at the door. For a moment France freezes, his eyes wide. "E-er... Just one second!"

"Shit," France mutters under his breath. He struggles to button his pants again. He curses again when he can't seem to get America's belt settled. "I was made to remove clothes, not put them back on!"

Finally the belt is back in place and he is brushing at America's hair to make sure it is straight, wiping any lingering saliva from his face. He then gets up off of America and practically hurls himself onto the couch across from the one he had just been on.

France clears his throat. "Come in!"

The door opens and America turns to see who his unintentional savior is.

The man stands in the doorway. France stares at him. "And you are...?"

"...Canada. I am expected aren't I?"

France claps his hands. "Right, right Canada! Comment ça va?"

"Ça va bien."

Tired of being the one ignored for once, America tries to stand. "Mattie!"

Canada's eyes are finally brought to his brother. "Alfred! Oh Al, I'm so glad you're alright!"

America struggles to his feet and rushes to Canada, burying his face against his shoulder.

"Wah! It's terrible! They're all perverts! All of them! They all want my body Matthew!"

Canada suddenly blushes. "A-ah America y-you... um... uh...I-I-"

France smiles. "Oh my he's noticed your little friend America-chere."

Matthew pulls away, still blushing. "B-but Alfred, why are you handcuffed? Did England do this to you?"

There is anger on his brother's face, something America hadn't expected. Would someone finally be on his side? His heart swells with gratitude. 'I knew I could count on you Mattie!'

France quickly stands. "Ah-ahaha non, that was me. I was just, just showing him a trick."

Canada flashes him a sharp look. "Well remove them this instant!"

Alfred beams. 'That a boy Matt! Though you really do have the quietest voice. Are you seriously yelling? I can't even tell.'

France removes the restraints from America, looking sheepish. "See? No harm done. Isn't that right Alfred?"

America glares icily at him. He finally turns to Matthew and throws his arms around him. "Thank you Matthew! I knew I could count on you! You're not like the others! You're the only one who really cares!"

Canada blushes and puts his arms around his waist. "Ah! Um, well of course, you're my brother. But...I mean...I wish you had come to me sooner. This is really pretty extreme, I could have helped you out you know... You didn't have to take such intense actions!"

America pulls back, staring at him blankly. Surely he didn't think getting snatched up by England was _his _idea. "What do you mean?"

Canada unhappily digs through his pocket and pulls out a crumpled piece of paper that looks as if it had been worked over several times by anxious hands. "I mean this."

Alfred takes it curiously and tries to smooth it out. When he reads the words on the front they seem meaningless to him. 'You are invited' scrawled in elegant lettering. Not comprehending why this was such a grim object he opens it. When he finishes reading the inside text he is positive he must have read it wrong. He didn't have Texas after all, and the paper was quite crumpled. He strains his eyes and reads it again. France looks over his shoulder at it. "He sent you one too? Does he want our opinion on them? Really Arthur, always such a nitpicker. They're just wedding invitations."

A horrible chill goes down America's spine. So he hadn't been mistaken. He was in fact reading a wedding invitation that seemed to suggest that he—America—was somehow going to marry England. '...WHAT?! What the fuck Arthur?!'

He opens his mouth but he is struck speechless.

Canada ignores France, staring intently at his brother's shocked face. "I just don't understand why you didn't come to me about this. There are some solutions that would be less drastic. Though y-you know...If you really need to create a Union with another country I- I could step in. We are right next to each other after all. I-it would be much more convenient than if you were to be overseas don't you think? I mean, do you really want...want to marry England?"

France interjects sharply. "Ahaha oh sweet naive Matthieu! While your brotherly concern is quite touching you are still are not knowledgeable of the ways of the heart. Now quickly, we must go speak to England. He is expecting us. How about you wait here Alfred?" He starts to shove Matthew out of the room.

Matthew struggles against him. "Wait, but why isn't Alfred coming? I mean, this directly affects him, he should be there!"

France shoves Canada outside. America looks up, just starting to come out of his state of shock, and France smirks at him. "Goodbye for now mon cher."

America rushes forward. "Wait! Mattie!"

France slams the doors shut in his face and locks them. America bangs on them. "Hey! Let me out! Damn it you pervert, let me out! Matthew!"

France drags Canada away from the drawing room. Canada cranes his neck back. "What are you doing? Why did you do that? He obviously wants to come! Why shouldn't he? Stop pulling me!"

Canada pulls his arm away from France's grasp, intent to go back for America. France hastily puts his arm around Matthew. "You see my dear one, he has been somewhat irrational and emotional ever since he came to Arthur about his problems. It's one of the reasons why he brought him here, to help him become balanced again. He needs rest. England has already worked out many of the details with him. He just felt it best to take care of the foreign affairs aspect of it on his own so America could do just that."

Matthew can't remember the last time he heard such a bullshit story. "Funny, he seemed pretty shocked by the whole thing. Like it was the first time he'd heard about it."

France waves his hand dismissively. "I'm sure he was just shocked at how lovely the invitation was."

Canada frowns. "You're lying! What's going on here?"

Francis suddenly stops and puts his hands on Matthew's shoulders. "Look, let me tell you something. Earlier you noticed that Alfred was aroused?"

Canada blushes. "Well y-yes..."

"It was because the two of us were having a very intimate discussion. A heart to heart about England. Just talking about him got Alfred hot. His body and soul were deeply moved by the matter of his heart's desire. He would be very embarrassed if Arthur found out of course so you shouldn't tell him about the incident. Ever. Or even mention it in any way shape or form. He truly wants to marry Arthur."

Matthew lowers his eyes. "You're lying! I have no reason to believe you. For all I know you were doing something perverted to him before I came in."

France puts a hand to his heart. "Moi? I am deeply offended that you would suggest such a thing. If you don't feel you can trust me who has watched over you for so long then let's just ask England shall we?"

Canada brushes past France. "Yes. Let's."

The two complete the trip to England's office. France knocks. "We are coming in darling!"

England stands at his desk, setting down a plate of scones. "Greetings France. Canada. We're all busy countries so let's get to the point. I have called you here to negotiate a temporary arrangement to help financially support America. I will be taking the greatest part of the burden by temporarily joining with him until he has gotten back on his feet. I have drawn up the details here. Both of you may examine it and what it would entail."

Canada snatches the papers from England's hands. "Excuse my behavior, but I have a hard time believing America agreed to any of this! Why would he ever join with you again? It isn't in his character!"

England sighs exasperatedly. "What, you think I actually want to marry him? That idiot? I can't think of anything I'd like to do less."

France chimes in. "Besides, it works out swimmingly for everyone involved. Why, I forced England to marry me and it went rather well."

England elbows France violently in the stomach. "Yes. Quite the quaint little marriage we had. Look Matthew, it was mostly his idea. I just agreed to go along with it. Do you really believe that your stubborn as hell brother would allow me to just bash him over the head, tie him up using his own flag, and narrowly escape from his house on my unicorn? It's laughable."

Canada's heart sinks. "No..." Though that was oddly specific.

England spreads his hands out. "It's just a temporary arrangement Matthew. Don't you want your brother to survive and continue as a world power? I'm just doing what's best for him."

Canada looks at the documents in his hand. "Why does it have to be with you?"

England hides a frown. "Maybe he just feels most comfortable with me. He was a part of me for a long time. Is it really that unthinkable that he would come back for even the shortest amount of time?"

Canada finally sighs, relenting for the moment. "I guess not if it was a real emergency."

England smiles. "Exactly. Now, let us begin if there are no more objections."

~.

America sits in the drawing room, rubbing his forehead as he reads over the invitation for the hundredth time. This couldn't be happening. So this was how England was going to trap him. If he succeeded then it would be complicated to break away again. This wasn't the 1700s. Another revolution was possible but who knew what precautions England would take to prevent that this time around. No, he couldn't let this happen. Not if he wanted to keep his freedom. A distinctly sick, sinking feeling has settled in America's stomach. How was he going to pull this off?

* * *

Translations:

Comment ça va? - How are you?

Ça va bien - I'm fine/good


	7. Chapter 7

Hello! So it was just the 20th Anniversary of the fall of the Berlin wall. In honor of the occasion I have decided to update a little early this week. Hope you enjoy!

* * *

The treaty sits on the table between the three of them next to the plate of untouched scones. It had been turned inside and out, henpecked to death by Canada in particular. But everything was out and even Matthew didn't have anything to criticize except perhaps the document in its entirety. England had been very careful when writing it. All that was left was for them to put their names on it and Alfred's fate would be halfway sealed.

France is the first to lift his pen and sign it with a small flourish. "All done!"

England holds the pen out to Canada. "Well?"

Eyes narrowed, still not convinced, Canada reluctantly takes the pen. It hovers over the paper. His heart pounds in his throat. How could he do this to Alfred? If only he could talk to him somehow. Or stall. Or...

England's eye twitches. "Well are you signing or not? Do you want to help Alfred?"

Canada lowers the pen. The ink pools into the paper and spreads around the tip. Then he lifts it away. "You say this is temporary? That Al can get out of it whenever he wants?"

Who knew the usually unnoticeable, docile Canada could be so annoying. England has a hard time forcing his smile. "Of course. Why wouldn't he be able to?"

Canada frowns. "It's not in the treaty. Anywhere. I won't sign until you write a clause stating that he can get out whenever he wants!"

France touches his shoulder. "Matthew-"

Canada shrugs his hand off impatiently. "I won't sign!"

England locks eyes with the defiant Canada, his anger boiling just beneath the surface. The only thing keeping him from blowing up is biting the inside of his lip. He struggles to compose himself before opening his mouth. "I'm sorry Canada. I thought it was so obvious I didn't think of writing it in. I promise I'll write a clause now."

He pulls out a fresh sheet of paper from his drawer and sits down, writing quickly. Canada stares intently at him while trying to push France's arm off from around his waist. Finally England holds it up. "Good enough for you Matthew?"

Canada takes it from him and reads over it. He frowns thoughtfully looking over it again. It was surprisingly... straightforward. It explicitly said America was free to go at any time of his choosing. There wasn't even a hint of a loophole. Matthew is taken aback. Had he misjudged the situation after all? Still, something was nagging at him, something he couldn't quite put his finger on. But now there wasn't any real reason not to sign. If this was a hoax America had a sure way out. Feeling sick at heart he hands it back to England. "...Alright then. I'll sign."

England nods, hiding his relief under disinterest. With great strength of will Canada finally presses the pen to the paper and watches his hand write out his signature. He immediately feels as if he's made a terrible mistake.

"Very well, this will be finalized on the official date of our union when America signs. He can be so troublesome. Thanks to both of you for helping bail him out. He's always getting himself into messes that are over his head."

France tugs at Canada. "Come on chéri, that was très boring. You can come to my house, I'll serve you a proper lunch."

England halts France. "Hey you, fool, stay back for a moment. I need to talk to you about something."

France sighs. "Damn, well wait for me outside my darling Matthieu! I shall only be a moment!"

England glances at him coolly. "Please don't wander about Matthew."

Canada gives England a suspicious look before exiting the room. He looks around. Would he have time to get down to America before anyone noticed? He really couldn't believe England wasn't up to something. England didn't exactly have the record of a saint. It was almost unthinkable that America would head back to England, especially without mentioning it to him first. Surely he couldn't be that bad off. No, he had to somehow let Alfred know he was going to help him. He had to get a hold of him...

"Oi, laddie, what are ye all fussed up about?"

Canada jumps and holds his chest, turning to see Scotland standing in the hall. "A-are you talking to me?"

Scotland looks around. "Ain' no one else here laddie. Little Canada, isn' it? Haven' seen ye in ages."

Canada stares at him. Someone had noticed him and hadn't mistaken him for his brother...He quickly shakes his head. There was no time for that. "Ah! I have an idea. Scotland, would you be willing to do me a favor?"

Scotland looks around then moves in close. "Ah'm sure I'd be more'n happy but ye better keep yer voice down if ye do nae want yerself getting overheard."

Canada looks at him gratefully. "Thank you Scotland! There isn't much time so I can only say this once. Here's what you can do..."

~.

England waits until the door has closed behind Canada to speak. "Did he see Alfred?"

France leans against the desk casually. "Oui. Briefly. They embraced in brotherly affection before I dragged Matthew off. He managed to clue Alfred in on your little marriage scheme." France chuckles.

England clenches his fists. "Damn, I was hoping to avoid that a while longer. Hmph, Matthew is going to be an interference. Do you think you can keep distracting him? He must not get near Alfred or communicate with him in any way until Alfred signs the treaty."

France raises an eyebrow. "Oh? You think it was smart to let him out by himself? He might go rush off to save his beloved Fred."

England tosses his head dismissively. "It will be fine. ...By the way, how exactly did you get that bruise on your forehead? You weren't doing anything you would regret to Alfred were you? I swear I will break your spine like a twig if you so much as touched him."

England glares darkly at France, who is instantly reminded how terrifying the Englishman could be. "Oh, c'est rien, rien! I would never! It was Scotland you see. You know how he is with me..."

England seems to take it down a notch and France sighs in relief, gingerly touching the bruise. "Does it look that bad?"

"Oh it's an improvement to that ugly face of yours."

"Such cruel words from such a tiny little man." France looks over at the steaming England. "I do have one question. Alfred has fallen right into your lap yet you wrote a clause allowing him to escape it. He'll use it immediately. Why did you do that?"

England smirks as he picks up the piece of paper with the clause. He waves it a couple of times. "I promised Canada I would write it. I never promised I would add it into the actual agreement." He grabs the top of the paper with both hands and rips it down the middle, repeating this action until it is nothing but scraps.

France winks. "Ooh, how coldly ingenious Artuur. I just got chills."

Arthur throws the scraps onto his desk like confetti. "You can leave now. Remember, keep Canada occupied until Alfred is firmly mine."

France smirks at the smaller country. "You know... you shouldn't be too cocky about this. Before you know it your meticulous plans will come to ruin from arrogance and obsession."

England waves an impatient hand. "Shut up you idiot, don't talk to me like you have a single intelligent thought in your head. I know what I'm doing."

France simply shrugs. "Very well. I will do my best to keep Matthieu out of your hair."

He bows out of the room and England taps his desk in irritation. As if he would lose this far in the game. He was too close.

~.

France flits out of the room. "Oh Matthew! Come along now I- Er...."

France stops dead at the sight of Scotland leaning over Canada, talking to him in hushed tones. France takes a few cautious steps backwards. "What...what are the two of you doing?"

Scotland glowers at France. "Tellin' him how big he is since the last time Ah saw him. As if it's any of yer business anyhow."

France laughs nervously, his hand unconsciously covering his forehead. "Oh, and here I was worried you were doing something scandalous."

Scotland straightens up to his full height, face menacing. "Ye seem to have mistaken me for ye."

Canada puts a hand on Scotland's arm, looking nervous. "Um, a-anyway, it was nice seeing you again Scotland. I'm sure I'll be seeing you again in the near future."

Scotland turns to Canada, face softening immediately. "Aye laddie, it was nice seein' ye again."

Canada turns and walks towards France who is still watching Scotland distrustfully. Since their split he had come to much physical distress at his hands. "W-well, as always a pleasure to see you Scotland."

Scotland growls threateningly and France grasps for Canada's hands. "Well, look at the time, have to be going, sorry to leave so quickly! Come on Matthew walk faster."

France tugs frantically at Canada to make him pick up the pace. Canada glances back once more and Scotland winks. Feeling some relief, Canada allows France to pull him away. "Ah, will I get to see Alfred before we leave? I wanted to say goodbye..."

France continues to rush them down the hall. "Non, I am afraid we can't today."

Matthew frowns but he had also been expecting this answer. At this point he has the feeling it won't be so easy to get in touch with Alfred again. If only he could have gotten a moment alone with him. He would just have to count on Scotland delivering his message and helping him out.

France finally ushers Canada out the front door. "Well now, what would you like for lunch Matthew? I can make anything you like mon cher! Huh?"

Francis looks at his hand with disgust. With a sharp frown he licks his finger. "Maple? Matthew why are your hands sticky? Have you been hitting the bottle again?"

Matthew looks up at him with the cutest face he can muster. "I like maple."

Any suspicion is immediately thrown out of France's head, replaced with undoubtedly perverted thoughts. "Ah well... I know you do."

He ruffles Canada's hair. "Okay, so lunch! Come on my little ange, your taste buds will kiss the stars!"

As the two cross the estate Matthew pauses to look back at the house and sees America staring down at him from the drawing room window. The invitation is still clutched tightly in his hand. His face is sad and desperate. Matthew can't ever remember seeing him look so defeated. In that moment Matthew's resolve becomes impenetrably solid. He didn't care what France and England tried to pull. He refused to let England steal his brother away. He had no right to take him. This was the first time America really needed him. For once he would be the hero and somehow find a way to save Alfred. He quickly gives America a thumbs up. America's face immediately perks up, a small smile appearing. He gives him a thumbs up in return. It seemed his message had gotten through. Canada waves and turns away. He had a lot of work ahead of him if he was going to put together a plan before the wedding.

~.

America watches his brother go, his heart heavy. Still, he was reassured by that final gesture. Surely Matthew had not abandoned him. 'I'm counting on you bro. For the love of God, help me!'

He jumps as the doors behind him open abruptly. England folds his arms and stares at America. "Ugh, didn't I have Scotland bring you fresh clothes? Why are you still wearing that?"

America clenches his jaw and approaches England in a few quick strides. He grabs the shorter man by the collar and pulls hard. "Who the fuck do you think you are? Just what are you trying to pull, telling people you're going to marry me!"

Face remaining neutral, England grabs America's wrist and squeezes. America does his best to hold on, face twitching from the pain until finally he has to release him. He pulls his hand to himself and rubs it gingerly. Before he can recover England slaps him sharply across the face. "Don't ever do that again. I will not be disrespected by you anymore Alfred. The wedding will only be for those who are in on the treaty so it will only be France and Canada. They are merely witnesses to your signing the contract that will join us in union."

America, who had gone from rubbing his wrist to rubbing his cheek, sneers at him. "And what makes you think I'll sign that?"

England sighs. "You really are a complete idiot. What do I see in you? Once it's time you'll have come to see there is no choice. Give up now Alfred, you will be mine."

America snorts. "Is that so? And what will you do if I haven't seen the light? You'll just be humiliated in front of France and Canada. There is no way I will sign that damned treaty!"

England strokes his chin thoughtfully with his thumb. "In that case I'll just have to hand you over to Russia."

America pales, taken off guard. "You couldn't... You wouldn't do that! I mean, you... you wouldn't be so hell bent on getting me just to give me to Russia!"

England's eyes are cold. "Just watch me. Submit or be destroyed America. If you will not do as I say than you shall suffer. The decision is yours you know. But I can assure you it will be a much more pleasant experience if you are with me."

He reaches up and runs his thumb across America's lower lip. America pulls his head back, blushing. "You're an asshole!"

England grins nastily. "I'm just willing to do whatever it takes to get what I want. And I want you Alfred."

America glares down at him, acidic anger churning in his stomach. "You'll never get away with this."

England stares up at him. "We shall see."

He touches the hem of America's shirt. "If you insist on wearing this then go take a shower. I expect you to be clean at least."

America pulls his shirt away. Why should he do anything the bastard told him to? He growls softly and turns. There was no way he would sign that treaty. America would not be taken down so easily. However, the only thing talking to England would accomplish would be to further piss him off so leaving seemed the best alternative. At least he wouldn't have to look at that smug face.

England watches him storm off, not stopping him. There was no need to continue arguing with him. There was little he could say at the moment. America would just have to face facts eventually. Let him be a brat. He did feel guilty for using Russia as a threat. But the less hope America had the better chance the ceremony would go smoothly. Of course he would never actually hand him over to that creepy giant. He would never give him to anyone. America was too precious and now that he had him back he wouldn't let go.

England looks around him. His home is large, filled with history. It had once housed many countries, many people. It was too empty now. It had been for a while. Still, nothing had brought him greater joy than that too short time when America had lived with him. His sweet little America, so brash, charmingly adorable, and powerful even at a young age. Even if his house were to be completely empty it would be alright with him if he could at least have America with him once more. England would be the one in charge, the one in control again. He had lost that so long ago he almost can't remember what it is like. When he had first taken America home he had realized that the boy probably didn't need a protector. But now that things had become so difficult for the young nation he had his chance. He could be the protector. He could still win.

He laughs softly to himself. Maybe France was right. Perhaps he was becoming a sentimental old fool. The way he got so excited or nervous around America when he was far older and had a much more vast well of experience was laughable. But it was different with Alfred. The uncertainty, to want something so badly and feel powerless to take it.. that would all end. Alfred would be his once and for all.

* * *

Translation: Oh, c'est rien, rien! - Oh, it's nothing, nothing!

**AN:** So I'm not sure if treaty is quite the right word for England's union with America plus the support of France and Canada but I honestly couldn't think of what it might be instead.


	8. Chapter 8

America slams the door behind him and angrily collapses on his bed only to get up to start furiously pacing the room. This was bullshit. Such total bullshit. And he was knee deep in it all. What was he going to do? Was he supposed to take England's threat seriously or was it just another ploy? At this point he has absolutely no idea.

He finally resigns himself to lying on the bed again, face buried in a pillow. He's not sure how much time passes when his stomach growls grumpily. It had been hours since he had been woken up by England and France fighting and he hadn't even had breakfast. Now it was well past lunch and he hadn't had a bite to eat all day. Great, did England intend to starve him too? There's a gentle knock on the door. America groans. "Who is it?"

"It's Scotland again. Ah have something te cheer ye up."

America sits up listlessly. "Come in."

Scotland pushes the door open holding a plate in one hand. "Ah brought ye some deep fried foods. Ah know they always make me feel better."

America's stomach growls appreciatively. He loved deep fried foods and any kind of food sounded pretty tempting right now.

"Ah also have some scotch te wash it down if yer interested."

"Thanks Scotland, I appreciate it."

Scotland hands him the plate. "That's a deep fried Snickers bar an that's a deep fried Twinkie and ye probably are better off nae knowing what exactly that is but it's delicious."

America takes a bite of the Twinkie. Awesome, totally awesome. "Can I have some of that scotch? I need it for more than one reason right about now."

"Course laddie, that's what it's there for."

America takes the offered bottle and takes a mouthful, grimacing before chasing it with another. "Prefer it on the rocks, but I really needed that."

Scotland pats him gently on the back. "Have as much as ye need."

America eats the deep fried delectables, taking drinks of straight scotch from time to time. By the time he finishes he feels a bit buzzed and not so hungry, though his stomach wasn't particularly happy about the combination. He pats it. "Don't complain, at least it's something."

Scotland takes the plate. "That reminds me, England expects ye te come down fer dinner."

America snorts and hits the bottle again. "Well la di freakin da. I don't give a shit what he wants."

Scotland chuckles. "Ah admire the attitude. Oh, here."

Scotland hands America a napkin, leaning in more than was necessary. He whispers so softly America can scarcely hear him. "Careful when ye read it. Be discreet."

America raises an eyebrow but soon has an idea of what Scotland means when he wraps his hand around the napkin. It was too stiff. There was something tucked in it. Being as subtle as possible, America brings it down to his lap and pulls it out. It's a piece of paper with a quickly scrawled message.

_A.,_

_No worries, have an idea. Hold tight, will send more instructions soon. Don't let E. see this. I will get you out of there. _

Under the words is a sticky mark. America runs a finger over it. What was it? Smelled kind of sweet... He licks his finger thoughtfully and realizes it is maple syrup. Mattie was adorable. He really was. Though it totally gave away who wrote the note. That was okay though, he would make sure no one saw it. Carefully, he wipes his hands and crumples the note into the napkin. "Scotland, do you think you could properly dispose of this?"

Scotland nods. "Oh aye, ye can count on me. Ah'll just be going now. Shall Ah tell England not te hold his breath on seein' ye tonight?"

America taps the side of the bottle of scotch. "No..." He says slowly. "No, in fact assure him that I will be down as soon as he summons me."

Scotland doesn't know what America is up to but he obviously had something on his mind. As he stands America stops him one last time. "Oh Scotland? Do you still have that suit from earlier? I think I'll change into it after all..."

~.

America stands under the shower, welcoming the hot water that runs down his abused body. It felt good, almost purifying. Too many perverted hands had been put on it lately. He runs his fingers through his hair, rinsing the last bit of shampoo. Now properly clean he stands in the water until it starts to turn cold. With great reluctance he finally reaches down and turns the knob. The water jumps to a trickle and then a slow drip. America slicks back his hair out of his face and steps onto the bath mat. The room is thick with steam. America grabs a fluffy white towel and starts to rub himself down. He walks over to the mirror and runs a hand across its clouded surface, smearing the fog to reveal a slightly distorted image of his own face.

Now that he had seen Canada's note he had more hope. Someone on the outside was working to save him and that was a huge relief. America couldn't be positive one way or the other how serious England's threat was to hand him off to Russia if he didn't cooperate. Usually it would seem impossible but after seeing his behavior lately America could believe anything. For all he knew the shrimp would sell him out to Russia and all because he wouldn't marry him. Well, as long as he had a good shot at escaping he might as well butter the bastard up a bit. It wouldn't hurt, might make England ease up a tad if he thought he was starting to be more cooperative. He would play the meek victim and plot his awesome escape with Matthew behind his back.

America leaves the bathroom, steam billowing out after him. He takes a breath of fresh air and looks at the suit lying on the bed with distaste. He hated formal suits. Well, for the greater good as they said. America puts it on, feeling very stuffy and uncomfortable. Oh how he remembered this feeling from his past... He hated it. Still, when he goes into the bathroom to fix his hair he has to admit he does look damn good. He poses like a secret agent, smirking cockily at his reflection. "The name is Jones. Alfred Jones."

He proceeds to waste time striking various poses, creating smooth dialogue for himself, and rolling around the room, his fingers becoming deadly weapons as he 'shoots' invisible adversaries. When a knock comes at the door he jumps self-consciously to his feet, tugging at his ruffled shirt. "C-coming."

He walks over and opens the door, flustered. Scotland raises an eyebrow at Alfred's crumpled, breathless appearance. "Little bit wants ye now."

America nods, running a hand through his hair. "Right."

The two of them walk silently together, pausing at the base of the stairs. "Did you take care of the..."

Scotland nods. "Aye."

America nods one last time before the two go their separate ways. As America apprehensively makes his way towards the dining room he finally catches a whiff of something truly divine. He picks up the pace and enters the dining room. England sits at the table, tracing a finger around the rim of his glass. He looks up when America enters, his eyes widening at the sight of the other country looking so slick. America however, has eyes for what's on the table.

"Hamburgers!" He approaches eagerly, apprehension gone for the moment.

England smirks. "Well, though I won't actually give you an indefinite amount and I myself don't particularly care for them I figured I did say you could have them."

America slides into his seat and lifts the bun. It had everything he liked on it. "Well I'm impressed Arthur. It has everything any self-respecting burger should."

England snorts. "How could I not make one to your liking when you talk about them all the time?"

America shrugs and picks it up, taking a bite. He closes his eyes as the taste overwhelms him with nostalgia. He hadn't been gone long but already he misses his own home. "Great, this is really great."

It was a bit hard to understand him with his mouth full but England gets the message. Pleased, he picks up his own and the two eat.

America cheerfully consumes the burger. Whether this was made as a peace offering or bait to lure him in, America doesn't know and doesn't particularly care. Still, England was sending some hellaciously mixed messages. On one hand he was being a perverted, heartless creep. On the other he showed flashes of doting behavior. What was America supposed to think? And why was Arthur doing this? No matter how often he circles the question he can't get a grip on any sort of answer that makes sense to him.

As America eats and gives his brain some exercise England watches him. His burger sits on its plate, half-eaten. He really didn't like them all too much. Still, America looked content and that made it worth it. Actually England is rather surprised at America's cooperative mood considering only hours prior he had been throwing a fit. More than likely he had some dunce plan in mind. Arthur wouldn't complain if it meant he got to see Alfred doing as he was asked. He really did look so attractive in a suit.

Arthur laces his fingers together and leans his chin on them, staring at Alfred.

Alfred glances up and notices the smile playing on Arthur's lips. "What?"

"Oh, I was just thinking how it almost feels like when you were young and lived with me."

America runs his tongue over the top row of his teeth, searching for burger residue. "You know, I think you really live too much in the past. You're seriously obsessed. Whenever you're drunk you talk about the past too."

Arthur tsks. "Don't you ever think of the past?"

America shakes his head firmly. "Rarely. I only believe in looking forward. What good can looking back do?"

Arthur sighs softly. "Then we are two different kinds of fools. I stuck in what was and you never learning from what has been. Quite the pair we make."

Alfred frowns slightly and sits back in his chair, arms crossed. "Oh don't get philosophical on me. I can't stand that stuff."

England's eyes trace over America's slouched posture, casual attitude wholly inappropriate in his current attire. "You don't like to think much do you? And you aren't particularly good at it."

Alfred narrows his eyes. "Fuck you."

England can't help but smirk. "So eager? All in good time. I know you aren't a virgin but I'll still wait until we are officially joined. It's the gentlemanly thing to do."

America flushes bright red. "What are you talking about now you pervert?"

Arthur chuckles. "You're too adorable Alfred. I don't understand why you are resisting this. You won't have to strain over figuring out how to fix your economy, who to give money to, how to give everyone jobs. It will all be so easy in my hands. You'll still be your country's public head but you won't have to do the actual work. Lord knows you've always been best at goofing off."

Anger wells up in America and sits at the back of his throat. "Don't do that. You make me sound like an irresponsible child that's never done anything right. Stop being so condescending! I've made mistakes. Lots of mistakes. I know that okay? But I have had my moments. And I've faced war, maybe not to the extent you have but I have seen my people die. I have felt pain and have known what it is to feel like nothing will ever be right again. The Civil War, the Great Depression, the World Wars, Vietnam, the Cold War, 9/11... I have suffered, too. I just smile and do my best to bear it. My life isn't all goofing around. You might not like to think of me as one but I am an adult you know, and I'm doing the best I can!"

England stares at America in surprise. "I...I didn't mean to...I mean I know..."

Well. Of course he thought of America as terribly young. Even now he was still a babe in the woods in comparison to England. He just didn't realize his teasing would strike such a chord in America.

"...I'm sorry," he finally says quietly.

It's America's turn to be surprised. England sounded genuinely embarrassed. He sighs sharply. "Forget it. It's not a big deal. Just...don't."

They sit in silence for a long, awkward moment. England looks away, staring at the floor. Finally he looks back up at America who seems lost in his own thoughts. He wishes he could see into his mind. He wanted to understand the younger nation but somehow he had always seemed to miss him completely... And to bluntly ask was a little more embarrassing than he can tolerate.

"Ah! There's... there's ice cream if you want some."

America blinks rapidly and fixes his gaze on England. His beautiful blue eyes seem to clear, regaining a bit of their sparkle. "Ice cream? Yes, I love ice cream! What kind?"

England stands. "If I'm obsessed with the past you are obsessed with ice cream. I think you like it just a little too much."

America slaps the table. "Nonsense! One cannot love ice cream too much! Now bring it out!"

England smiles and goes into the kitchen. He had missed this. Despite their continuous arguments, there had always been the pleasant moments that stood out so strongly in his mind. Those were now back within grasping distance.

England dishes up two bowls of ice cream. When he comes back into the dining room America is drumming his fingers impatiently on the table. He beams when his bowl is placed before him. "Hurray! I have had the biggest craving for ice cream ever since last night."

England's face flushes bright red and he coughs. America doesn't even pay him a second glance before digging in. England remains standing, taking small spoonfuls as he watches America devour his. Once he reaches the end, Alfred licks the bowl and spoon clean. England feels his face getting hot. If only America knew how the clash of his sophisticated appearance and delinquent attitude affected him.

America glances up at England. "You going to finish that?"

England silently hands him his half-eaten ice cream just so he can watch him repeat the process all over again. England shivers pleasantly as Alfred finally cleans the spoon for the last time before licking his lips. "Wow, I have to hand it to you, that was a good dinner Arthur."

England swallows hard. America still had a drop of ice cream on the corner of his mouth. America notices the oddly scary look on England's face and decides it might be time to disappear. He had made his appearance and England was obviously appeased. He stands. "Well, if you don't need me for anything else I'll be heading up to my room."

England grabs America's arm just as he is walking past. America looks at him from the corner of his eye. "...Something wrong?"

England turns him so they are facing each other. "Your tie is crooked."

Alfred sighs with relief. "O-oh...I can just-"

Arthur suddenly grabs the tie, pulling Alfred down. "You always looked so attractive in a suit. It killed me that you didn't wear them more often. Mmm, but you will be."

He pulls even harder on the tie and locks lips with America. The other country stiffens, not expecting the sneak attack. Arthur pulls away slightly and licks the drying dot of ice cream. "Good night Alfred."

Alfred wipes his face, shuddering. He backs away. "N-night."

With that muttered response he hurries off, afraid England might try something else.

England licks his lips. It was going to be hard to contain himself until the Union was finalized...

~.

Somewhere in the house a phone rings. Japan frowns slightly and puts down the knife he was using to cut vegetables. Wiping his hands on his apron he hurries to the phone.

"Moshi moshi, may I ask who is calling?"

The voice on the other end is so quiet and hesitant Japan has to strain his ears to hear.

"Hello Japan...This is Canada."

Japan thinks for a moment. "...Gomenasai, I am not sure who that is."

There is a sigh on the other end. "I'm the one that looks like America."

Japan vaguely remembers America-san telling him he had a brother. "My apologies Canada-san. May I help you?"

The voice suddenly becomes firmer. "Yes actually. It involves America. I need your help."

Canada explains the entire situation from beginning to end as he understood it. Then he proceeds to tell Japan his plan. "So, will you do it?"

Japan closes his eyes. "Hai, of course I will. After all, America-san is my friend."

Canada gushes with relief. "Oh thank you Japan! This means so much. I can't tell you how much I appreciate it. I-I have to go. I'll contact you again later! Um, goodbye."

The phone clicks on the other side before Japan can respond. Japan returns the receiver to its cradle slowly, eyelids lowering. So, America-san was weak and in England's clutches... Perhaps he would go see him in secret. While he did not mind helping Canada-san with his plan, this scenario presented very rare opportunities that could possibly be taken advantage of...

* * *

**AN:** A plotting Japan is the best kind of Japan -laughs- And America is too cute for his own good (this is why people always want to molest him)


	9. Chapter 9

Hurray, got this out Thursday after all! Didn't think I would manage it with the holiday and what not... Plus I needed the Hur Dur troll to approve this before I posted and I was really shaving it close this week -laughs- I hope you guys had a lovely Thanksgiving and if you don't celebrate that then just a lovely day in general!

Disclaimer: None! Public domain, public domain! Haha

* * *

America closes his door and leans against it, heart pounding. What had seemed to be a fairly normal encounter with England had transformed into yet another creepy experience. He was more confused about what to think about England than ever.

He sighs and starts to loosen his tie. 'Canada, for my sake please hurry and contact me again. I can't take this much longer.'

Besides, without knowing exactly what Canada's plan was America couldn't prepare in any way. America was a man of action. Not having anything to do, just waiting around, was something he had never felt comfortable with. Hell, that's partly why he had broken away from England in the first place.

America walks over to the window and watches the sun set. Golds and reds explode across the sky, darkening like a bruise into a moody dark blue. This place... It was once his home. Yet it felt so alien. Too much time had passed. How could he ever think of it as home again? It was beautiful and he had never hated it but it was too constricting for him. So why was Arthur trying to drag him back? Was it a matter of pride? America just doesn't get it.

America begins to hum a random tune. Soon it starts to turn into his anthem.

"Hmm hmm stripes and bright stars, through the perilous fight,  
O'er the ramparts we watched were so gallantly streaming?  
And the rocket's red glare, the bombs bursting in air,  
Gave proof through the night that our flag was still there:  
Oh, say! does that star-spangled banner yet wave-"

America pauses and swallows hard, his chest constricting painfully. He sings the next line in a soft, wavering voice. "O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave?"

America leans his head against the cool glass. He would return to that land and somehow he would make it work. Somehow he would fix things... He just had to.

America pulls the tie away and starts to undress, throwing each article of clothing over a chair. Somehow...

England leans against the wall next to America's door. He closes his eyes and sighs softly. Though the sounds that came through the door were muffled they weren't so obscured that he couldn't hear what America had been singing.

In that moment there is a part of him that acknowledges, however unwillingly, that what he was doing was wrong for more reasons than he can list. Simultaneously, there is a part of him that realizes he wants America too much to care, no matter how wrong it is. It leaves him painfully conflicted. Not particularly over whether he should release Alfred or not. It was in his history to take what he wanted with little regard to whomever he was stealing from (or in this case just stealing). What conflicts him is the struggle between that part of himself and the part that was supposed to be a reformed gentleman. It seemed there were some aspects of his nature that he could not break no matter how much time passed. The gentleman would lose.

Still...it is strong enough to keep him from bursting into the room to harass Alfred for having the audacity to sing his own national anthem in his house.

England debates whether to knock and see America like he originally had intended then decides against it. There hadn't been any pressing matter to discuss with him. He had just felt like spending a little more time with him. Alfred didn't particularly seem in the mood for his company if he was correctly reading between the lines. Feeling a bit put out, England silently walks away and leaves America in peace.

~.

Canada types away furiously, pauses to riffle through a few papers, lets out a frustrated sigh, then continues typing again. Things were coming together slowly but surely. Still, he didn't have time for slow. Not if he was going to complete this in time. It had given him a huge boost in confidence when Japan had agreed to sign on. After all, there was only so much Canada could do on his own. And this was going to prove very tricky, particularly on top of his own money problems that, while not desperate, were not exactly hot either. Somehow he had to get someone else to help with this. Who did he know...? America didn't have a lot of friends. Maybe he could trick Francis into helping. Well, either way it was nice to have an ally.

'Thank goodness for Japan. Such a polite, decent person.'

Canada continues to type, ignoring his tired eyes.

~.

America wanders around aimlessly, trying to decide what to do. He had awoken a little before noon and found a note sitting on the dresser telling him that England had stepped out on a short errand but would be back soon. It also severely warned him against doing anything stupid ("as hard as I know that will be for you" he had felt necessary to add). This was a golden opportunity with the problems being that Alfred hadn't the faintest idea of when the note had been left and whether he should even make an attempt to escape. It was rather frustrating that he didn't know what Canada was planning. If he had even the slightest clue he could try to decide what kind of action should be taken. So he had been wasting what precious little time he had left walking around England's home, trying to decide what would be for the best.

America lets out an aggravated sigh. "I wish someone would just get me out of here already so I wouldn't have to worry about it anymore."

"I may be of assistance America-san."

Startled beyond reason, America trips and falls to the ground. A ghost?! America quickly rolls over. Japan looks down at him, wearing his usual blank face. Oh thank god, it wasn't a ghost. "J-Japan?! Is that...is that you? What are you doing here? And seriously, what's up with being like a ninja? You scared me!"

Japan bows his head. "Gomenasai."

America blinks up at him. Japan seems so out of place here it was hard to process how he should react.

Urgency finally takes the lead. "K-Kiku! Ah, there isn't much time! England is gone right now but I have no idea when he gets back. There's a lot I have to say. He's been holding me captive-"

Japan holds up a hand. "I am the one who arranged a distraction for England to lure him away. We are probably running low on time but we should still have some left. Your brother Canada-san told me about your current predicament."

Had Canada told Japan something about his plan and now he was here to help him? Awesome! "Oh! Did he send you?"

Japan shakes his head. "He does not know I am here."

America blinks. "Oh...Well..."

He comes up blank. So was Japan here to help him or not?

"Canada-san did tell me of a plan of his, and while I am more than happy to assist him in freeing you from England-san I am not positive he can pull it together in the amount of time he has."

"How much times does he have? I was never told when this whole 'marriage' thing is supposed to take place. Like...later this month?"

Japan looks slightly pained. "In a few days. Actually less than that. Closer to two."

America chokes. "Two days?! Are you- That little- Damn it he works fast! How can Matthew do anything in such a short amount of time?"

Japan nods once. "That was my initial concern. It would be a shame for you to get stuck in such a union due to time constraints."

America bangs his fist on the floor. "Stupid eyebrows bastard! What the hell am I supposed to do?"

Japan reaches out his hand. "If you would like, America-san, you may come stay in my house."

Taken aback, America stares at the outstretched hand. "I...I can?"

"Hai. This is my own private offer to you America-san, and preferably is to be kept confidential whether you choose to go with me or not. I will provide financial assistance for your country and protect you from England."

Alfred frowns slightly, his hand hesitantly reaching up. This was a whole different conundrum. He could take up Japan's offer right now which seemed to be a sure way out. He didn't know what Canada was going to do or what his plan was or even how he could come up with anything in so little time. It's not that he didn't trust his brother but...

Just as America's hand starts to raise purposely towards the offered hand, Japan speaks. "There will, however, be some conditions."

America's hand freezes then withdraws. "...Like what?"

Japan kneels so he is closer to America. "I would have certain privileges over you."

America's frown deepens. "Privileges?"

"As I would be providing money to help your economy I would have rights to oversee where these funds would be going and retain the right to cut them off or seize control if I felt they were being used ineffectively or frivolously."

Made sense. "So you'd have some control over the use of whatever money you gave me?"

Japan nods. Well that wasn't really so bad... "Anything else?"

"You will lose some global freedom as you will be required to buy certain imports from me alone, particularly in the technology department. I also want more exclusive rights on your exports. I don't mind if you trade with other countries as long as you have satisfied my requirements first. Third, any new foreign relations would have to be approved by me before they began. All of your current foreign affairs would remain as they are now."

America chews the inside of his lip. This would restrict his freedom quite a bit. Still, it was all reasonable or at the very least understandable. "Alright..."

Japan tilts his head thoughtfully. "There would be one final condition."

America feels somewhat uncomfortable all of a sudden. Perhaps it was the fact that something about Japan's expression was starting to remind him of England's as of late.

"What would that be?"

Japan's eyes, which tended to hover around America's neck or mouth, finally flick up and meet his. "I get to humiliate you."

America flushes. "Wh-what?! What are you... what do you mean humiliate me?"

Japan lunges forward, knocking America onto his back, and positions himself so he is straddling the taller country, hands pushing down on his shoulders. "For however long you are under my care and or in my debt, you will be required to pose for me in photos that are suited to my tastes. The pictures would be for my personal collection and kept private. Only I would know about them. No other eyes would see them."

America opens his mouth but nothing comes out. Was Japan kidding?

Japan's hand slides down America's chest slowly. "I wonder... I think you would look very cute in a maid's uniform. But perhaps that is a bit cliché? Maybe a stewardess... Ah, but I would have so much time to try various things."

America grabs Japan's wandering hand. "Kiku! You can't be serious!"

Japan leans down until his face in uncomfortably close to America's. "I am perfectly serious America-san. Please understand I do not want this to ruin our friendship. It isn't that I wish to humiliate you out of maliciousness. It's just opportunities like this are rare. And it's not so bad in my humble opinion. It's not like I would be humiliating you publicly or your people like you humiliated me and my people. Fair is fair."

Some of the bewildered anger Alfred had initially felt drains. So that was it. There were certain things one never could live down no matter how much time passed. "I see. Yes, fair is fair..."

America shakes his head slowly. If he was going to be humiliated by someone he would prefer it be England. He knew England well, knew his weaknesses. Japan was different. Japan was shrewd and impossible to read. Who knew when he would get out of his debt? He was already in way over his head. He might get stuck taking kinky pictures for him for ages. He would just put his faith in Matthew.

"I'm sorry Kiku. I do understand where you're coming from and I appreciate the offer but.. Thanks but no thanks."

Japan sits up, face as unreadable as ever. "I see. Very well then. I will do my best to assist Canada-san in getting you out of this mess."

America raises his eyebrows in surprise. "You're still helping me?"

Japan nods. "As I said, we are friends. Besides, it would be unfair of England-san to regain control of you for a second time when you are in such high demand."

America shivers slightly. In high demand? What was that supposed to mean?

Japan caresses America's cheek with the back of his hand and sighs. "You truly are very cute America-san. I wish I could dress you up. Oh but I can't decide if I like you with or without your glasses more. The glasses do make you very moe but your face looks so innocent without them..."

America grimaces. "A-ahaha well... er, that's... Hey Japan, England might get back soon. Maybe we should get up?"

Japan's face has turned bright red. America doesn't even want to know what he's imagining. "H-hai..."

Japan gracefully gets off of America and stands. He offers his hand again. "My deepest apologies for startling you earlier America-san."

America takes the hand and gets back on his feet. "Oh, no problem. You sure are quiet. Haha... Thank you Kiku. I mean, you and Matthew both. It's... This is... the worst."

Japan's expression becomes more sympathetic. "I wish you greater fortune in the near future."

They are interrupted by the sound of the front door opening. "-waste of my time! I swear if I ever find out who did that I will beat them within an inch of their life! As if I wasn't busy enough-"

England walks into the room, staring at the frozen America and Japan. He looks from one to the other. "A-ah... Japan, what are you.... what are you doing in my house!?"

Japan bows. "Konichiwa England-san."

England looks at him nervously. "What has he told you?"

Japan raises his face, looking clueless. "Told me...? I do not understand England-san. We were simply exchanging greetings. I just arrived. America-san told me you were away and that I could wait until you returned. That is all."

England looks at America in disbelief. "He...hasn't...said anything...I don't know, negative?"

Japan tilts his head. "Nani? ...Oh, are you perhaps referring to how he's been staying in your house and how the two of you will soon be joining in a temporary union? No, he has not. Canada-san informed me about it though. I actually came here today to humbly request that you allow me to join the treaty."

He bows low. "Onegai, America-san is a good friend and ally. I would like to assist him in his time of need as he helped me in the past."

England stares at the two of them. There is a mixture of shock and suspicion. "Er...well... I suppose there's no reason you couldn't..."

Japan bows lower than stands up straight. "Arigato England-san."

England looks questioningly at America who is trying to keep his face as blank as possible. England was positive that in a situation like this America would be begging Japan to help him escape. Yet Japan claimed that he hadn't said a thing. Was his threat of giving America to Russia really that effective? Or was he possibly... "Well...come with me and I'll let you look over it."

Japan bows his head to America. "It was a pleasure seeing you America-san."

America waves. "Same to you Kiku."

As England starts to lead Japan to his office, Japan tugs on his sleeve. "Oh, England-san... Have you ever considered seeing America-san in Lolita attire?"

Arthur turns bright red. "L-Lolita...?"

Japan nods, face very serious. "He would look cute with all that lace, do you not agree? I can arrange for the outfit and take pictures for you. Or perhaps if Lolita is not to your liking there are other options."

England looks at America and turns an even darker shade. America flushes angrily. "Stop imagining it! And don't say that Kiku! Damn it don't encourage his perverted mind with your own!"

Japan puts an arm around England's shoulders. "We can discuss it more while looking over the treaty."

England coughs and the two of them walk out of the room. America, frazzled, throws up his hands in anger. "I am in Hell! God, you have forsaken me!"

So even though America's allies had grown by one, Japan was still trying to manipulate something extra out of the situation. With friends like that who needed enemies?

* * *

Translations (they're all pretty general but just in case...):

Onegai: Please

Konichiwa: Hello

Arigato: Thank you

Term:

Moe-Go look it up on wikipedia if you want to know -laughs-


	10. Chapter 10

You know I honestly thought this would be done by the tenth chapter. So much for that theory -laughs- Oh well, just means there's more to love right?

* * *

England stands in the doorway, seeing Japan off. "Thank you for joining in on the treaty. It will be very helpful."

Japan bows. "It was my honor England-san. I hope to see you and America-san in good health at the ceremony. Oh...and do think about my offer. As I said, whatever fantasy you desire, I can make it come true."

England blushes softly. "Er, y-yes, thank you. I'll... consider it."

Japan bows one last time and walks down the pathway. England watches him a moment longer then enters the house.

Well that had been interesting. England hadn't expected Japan to join without a single prompt. Somewhere at the back of his mind suspicion tugs at him. It's very small but he takes a moment to listen to it. Japan had been talking to America right before he came in. How long had he really been there? Were they plotting something? Still, he very much wanted to think that on some level America was starting to see there was no point resisting. Or maybe he finally realized he was better off this way. It was putting a lot more faith on his level of intelligence than England usually did but it was possible. And of course, the most unlikely and the one England secretly wishes for most, perhaps America had decided it would not be so bad coming back to him.

But he would never get his hopes up that high. At least, he would try his best not to.

As for Japan finding out in the first place, England would have to call Canada and talk to him about it. He didn't want this to get out too much until America had signed the treaty and belonged to him. It was bad enough that Russia had been lurking about and Japan did make him feel nervous. Especially when he pushed so hard to let him take pictures of America in various kinds of 'special' ways.

England blushes again and pushes the thought away. There was no time for that now. He wonders where Alfred had gotten off to. It was about time he discussed a few technical things with him regarding their new soon-to-be alliance.

~.

Canada almost doesn't answer the ringing phone. Firstly, he barely hears it in his intense focus. Secondly, it would take away from what precious time he has. However, once he drags himself back out of his work and answers the phone he is glad he does.

"Hello?"

"Konichiwa Canada-san. How are you?"

Canada sighs softly. "Oh, hi Japan! Well... tired to be honest. But things are coming along."

"Are they coming along well enough that if I flew down there I would have something to sign?"

Canada looks at his document uncertainly. "Er, well I'm not really sure. You would be flying in from Tokyo right? About how far is that?"

"Actually I'm currently in the United Kingdom. I went to England's house and signed onto his treaty so that I would be able to attend the ceremony and act as backup for you."

Canada is thrown for a loop. "R-really? Ah, well... that's wonderful! Th-thank you Japan! You're so kind. Um, did you see Alfred? How is he?"

There is a pause. "...I saw America-san. He is well. Eager to be free."

"Mm, I'm sure. Well I'm working on it... I bet he was surprised by your visit."

"Oh yes, very surprised."

Canada runs a hand through his wavy hair. "Well, go ahead and fly down here. I'm going to be optimistic and say I'll have things far enough along that you'll have something to sign."

"Do you mind if I stay and then we could go to the ceremony together? It would be easier on me and I could assist you."

Canada smiles. "That would be fine. Thank you Japan, I can't tell you how much I appreciate your help!"

"It is nothing at all Canada-san. Ah is it true you have lots of moose? I want to take a picture of one."

Canada laughs awkwardly. "Um...yes we do have a lot in some places I guess..."

"Excellent. Well I must be going. I shall contact you once I have arrived."

"A-alright, goodbye."

"Sayonara. I will be seeing you soon Canada-san."

Canada hangs up and rubs his eyes. He was still very tired but Japan's call had given him new energy. He could do this. After all, he might not be America but he was going to prove that he could save the day too. And maybe Alfred would actually take more notice of him if he did... He flushes slightly.

"R-right. Let's see how much of this I can get done in the next few hours."

He throws himself back into his work.

~.

England finally finds America riffling through a cupboard in the kitchen, on the prowl for food. He clicks his tongue in disapproval. "Do you do anything other than eat?"

America closes the cupboard in disgust and tries the refrigerator. "Of course I do. I am also incredibly awesome on a regular basis. Why do you have so many disgusting things?"

"They are not disgusting! Look, take one of those fruits on the counter for now, it will be good for you to eat something that's not total trash for once. I'll make lunch later. Besides, I want to talk to you about some things and it's hard to hold a proper conversation when you talk with your mouth full."

America rolls his eyes. "Fine, just starve me."

He grabs an apple, tossing it into the air and catching it easily.

"So what do you want to talk about?"

England scoffs. "You want to talk in here?"

America shrugs. "Where do you want to talk? Doesn't matter to me."

England taps his arm. "Hmmm then the bedroo-"

"How about the sitting room," America hastily interjects.

England chuckles. "Very well."

America inwardly groans. _'What a pervert.' _

Hiding a frown, America follows England. "So how did it go with Kiku?"

England raises an eyebrow. "...Fine."

If that means anything to America it doesn't show on his face. England relaxes slightly. America juggles his apple from hand to hand. "Though I hope you know if you let him put me in a dress I'll deck you right? As if I would wear any of that frilly shit."

England ducks his head to hide his blush and coughs. "Well, then what will you do about your wedding dress?"

Alfred almost misses a step. He looks at the apple in his hand then throws it at the back of England's head. "Ow! Hey!"

America reaches down as the apple comes rolling towards him and scoops it back up, rubbing it against his shirt. "Like hell I'd wear a wedding dress! That's not even funny! Pervert king!"

England whirls around, still rubbing his head. "Don't call me pervert king! If anything France deserves that title."

America's eyes narrow to slits as he remembers France molesting him. "Actually I would agree with that. You should hit him with something next time you see him. Hard."

England blinks. "Why? Oh for the- Did he do something to you when he was here? I bet he did!"

America flushes and looks at the ground. "A-as if I'd let him do anything to me! I'm just saying, the guy deserves to be punched."

England feels anger welling up from the pit of his stomach. He should have suspected as much. There was no way the filthy beast could resist keeping his hands off Alfred when he was so vulnerable. 'I swear when I get my hands on that stupid git he's going to regret the very fact that he exists!'

America expects England to push the issue further and is relieved when he lets it drop, unaware of the murderous intent within England.

As they come to the sitting room America casually plops down on one of the chairs that is decidedly too small for more than one person to be on at any given time. He was starting to become wary of couches and love seats. They provided too much opportunity for the enemy to attack. England sits across from him wishing he had taken the time to make some tea before they had begun. They had even been in the kitchen.

America examines his apple. "So what is it?"

England smirks. "Oh, straight to business then? How rare. I wanted to talk to you about some aspects of our union."

America stares at him then takes a slow bite of the apple. "Hm."

England continues. "You see, there would be some dramatic shifts in power-"

crunchcrunchcrunch

"-that will probably result in some shifting in funds and foreign affairs. Such as the fact that-"

crunchcrunchmunch

"-there would..."

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"....Would you stop it! How is it even physically possible to eat an apple so loudly?!"

America swallows the bit of apple in his mouth. "Excuse me! You're the one who told me to choose fruit!"

England rubs his temples. "Well can you either finish it right now or save it for later? I swear once we finish talking I'll make you lunch and I'll make whatever you want as long as it's realistic. Re-al-is-tic! Got it?"

America looks at him sulkily, defiantly takes one last bite of apple, then puts it to the side. "Fine."

England glares at him another second until he has finished his final bite before continuing. "Now. As I was saying. There would be certain shifts in money and foreign affairs. I would start gradually transitioning many of the jobs you have outsourced either back home or in a more local network, namely in the countries who are involved with the treaty."

He pauses but America only looks at him blankly. Of course. With a small sigh he continues. "I would also go through a list of the countries you provide money or foreign aid to and determine which of them will continue to receive aid. I will undoubtedly cut down the number as well as restrict the amount given out. While it's all fine and well that you want to save the world, you have to focus on saving yourself at the moment."

America's face is blank but on the inside he is writhing. He doesn't want to hear England talk about changing _his_ country and _his _policies. He doesn't want to hear any of this. What was the best way to make him shut up?

"-so the best thing would probably be to-"

"I'm sure you know what's for the best," America cuts him off.

England stares at him in disbelief. "Excuse me?"

Alfred swallows his pride. He would much rather have Arthur think he was sitting in the palm of his hand right now then have to listen to his plans to fuck around with what he had no right to mess with. "I'm sure you know exactly what you're doing. Sounds like it anyway. Besides, we both know that you're only telling me this to indulge me. It's not like my input matters. I trust you to take care of all the technical stuff."

England can barely hide how flustered he is. "O-of course your input matters. I mean, it's still... Are you serious?"

America laces his fingers together. "Sure I am."

England is waiting for the joke, the trick, the cocky comment. There doesn't seem to be one. "Is this...Is this because of what I said about Russia?"

America blinks. "About Russia...? Oh, I forgot about that."

How typical of him to forget a threat so quickly. Idiot. Still, if anything that made his heart pound even harder. "W-well I just want you to know I...I wouldn't really give you to Russia. I just said that to make you cooperate. However you seem content to do that on your own. Planning something with Japan perhaps?"

America is taken by surprise at England's admission. "You wouldn't?"

England frowns, confused. "Wouldn't what?"

"Give me to Russia?"

Oh, that. He coughs. "No. I-I mean, who knows what kind of evil he would accomplish with you. It would be a disservice to the rest of the world."

America frowns at him. So the bastard had been trying to trick him with the Russia thing! Well it was a bit of a relief to find out it was a lie. "Well, I suppose that's true. And I told you, Japan had just arrived. Even if I wanted to plan something I didn't have enough time."

England shakes his head. "I know you too well. If you're determined to do it then you will no matter what. Why should I believe you?"

America pulls out his ace in the hole. "If I wanted to escape with him I would have."

England opens his mouth, closes it, blushes. Finally he stutters out, "W-well... I guess...T-that is..." There is a long pause. America has picked up his half-eaten apple, eyes tracing the caverns left by his teeth. England has to remind himself to breath. Was it possible that America was giving in to him? His heart lurches hopefully.

He stands up abruptly. "Hmph, well there is no trusting you so know that I have my eye on you! I'm not letting my guard down for a second! N-now I guess if you really don't want to know the details, which is very irresponsible of you, then we'll just get to lunch."

America's eyes flicker up to him, face apathetic. "Sounds good to me."

He was impetuous to the point where it could make England scream sometimes. And yet in that moment it is all he can do to keep from ripping all the young country's clothes off and having his way with him. England swallows hard and turns away lest his thought turn to action.

"Well, come on. You have to pick something. It wouldn't kill you to help me make it either."

America stands, pleased with himself for having fooled England. "I guess so, if you can't handle it without my awesome to guide you."

England snorts. "As if."

But secretly he is very happy.

~.

"Canada-san? ...Please pardon me Canada-san but I finished reading over it."

Matthew sleepily raises his head. "Hmm? Wha?"

As he blinks Japan's blurry silhouette becomes more clear. He is holding a thick stack of papers. "I have finished reading it Canada-san and I would like to discuss some things as well as humbly make a few suggestions."

Canada rubs his eyes and reaches around for his glasses. He had taken a break to catch up on some sleep while he waited for Japan to read what he had written. "Oh, right. What did you think overall?"

Japan riffles through the pages. "I noticed it was quite similar to England-san's treaty."

Canada blushes. "W-well, his was actually very well written and I figured I didn't have much time to work on it so I could save some by following his format... But I have had to figure out a lot of other things."

Japan looks at it thoughtfully. "I did notice the differences as well. You are making impressive sacrifices for your brother. It is quite honorable of you."

Canada nervously fidgets. "Well... I mean he is a bit of an idiot but he means well... Mostly... Even though he's always causing me troubles. I guess I'm used to it. That is to say, I just really care about him."

Canada takes the half-written treaty. "And England is being crazy. Not to mention France is supporting him for some reason. Probably because he thinks it's funny."

Japan looks at Canada-san carefully, considering how adorable he is, perhaps even more adorable than America-san.

Ah, but the two of them together... Japan's mind wanders as Canada squints at something he has written, mumbling to himself.

_Canada-san is wearing a dress fit for a porcelain doll in blues and whites, lots of ruffles and lace with elegant white gloves. His hair is pulled back with blue ribbons. He sits in a high backed chair. Tears well up behind his glasses in his large, clear blue eyes._

"_N-nii-san, my tummy hurts." _

_America-san is wearing a white nurse's uniform, short and tight, complete with a nurse's hat pinned in his hair. "My poor Mattie-chan. Here, let Nii-san make you feel all better."_

_America-san places one knee on the chair next to Canada-san and bends forward, his dress pulling up high enough to reveal a flash of pastel pink panties. "Don't worry, I have the perfect medicine for you."_

_Canada-san blushes, two perfect roses of color on each cheek. "Nii-san..."_

_America-san leans in, his lips brushing against-_

"Japan! Y-your nose is bleeding! Are you alright? Uh, uh, one second! N-napkin, tissue, where, where?"

Canada rushes out of the room for a moment, almost tripping as he rushes back in holding a tissue. "Here Japan!"

Japan takes it and presses it to his nose. He fiercely grabs Canada's wrist. "If the two of you are together then one can wear glasses and the other can have them off!"

Canada blinks, confused. "W-what?"

Japan composes himself once more and elegantly tucks a strand of hair behind his ear. "It is unacceptable. England-san can not have America-san. Do not worry Canada-san, we shall prevent this from happening. Before we talk about the treaty, however, I am wondering about what may be the greatest issue."

Canada raises his eyebrows curiously. "What would that be?"

"Even with my assistance this will barely be finalized right before the ceremony. There will not be time for America-san to sign this before he signs England-san's treaty. And if he signs England-san's before yours then it will be irrelevant. What do you plan to do?"

Canada frowns softly. "I hadn't thought of that. Hmm, w-well give me some time, I will think of something. Until then, let's get through this and make it as strong as we possibly can."

Japan nods, wiping excess blood from his upper lip. "Hai, very well then."

The two sit side by side. As Japan points out weak spots and makes suggestions Canada writes notes, part of him considering how he could possibly get Alfred's name on the treaty before it was too late.

* * *

**AN: **If you couldn't tell, I had way too much fun with Japan's fantasy scene. -laughs-


	11. Chapter 11

I am sorry this is late... but on the bright side I'm free for Winter Break now~! So in this chapter I am guest starring another OC, Ireland. Hope you find him as much of a hoot as I do. Apparently Scotland, Ireland, and Wales are just as much England's brothers as Sealand. Go figure. Guess it makes sense.

And so you know, human names used in this chapter:

Scotland-Ian

Ireland-Quinn

* * *

Why did things have to be so difficult? It shouldn't be this hard to get a signature. Of course it probably would be easier to think if Canada and Japan had gotten more than a few hours of sleep last night. They had taken turns working on the treaty and letting the other rest. Canada felt bad about depriving Japan of sleep when he didn't have to help at all and had stayed up for much longer stretches of time. He didn't mind but it sure made it hard to look at the computer screen anymore. Time was ticking away and now they only had the rest of today and tomorrow to think of a solution.

There had to be something, anything. Surely there was a way he could make sure America was part of his treaty before he signed England's instead. There had to be something he could do...

Canada looks up from his research, rubbing his tired eyes. They stung from staring at the computer screen for so long. Japan is writing elegant notes on a piece of paper, going through the treaty page by page. He had been such an immense help Canada doesn't know what he would do without him.

Right, he had to keep going. There wasn't much time left... Canada leans his head on one hand as he returns his gaze to the screen. He clicks on another link and tiredly skims the material. He's about to click out again when his eyes freeze over one line. 'Of course...'

"Of course! How could I have forgotten? Japan! I know how to make America a part of the treaty! At least... if this works I do! What do you think?"

Japan stands and walks up behind Canada, reading where he points to. "Hmm I do not know if that will work in this case but it is plausible."

Canada clasps his hands together. This would be perfect...If it worked. "Ah, but Canada-san, how are you going to do that?"

Right, he had to talk directly with Al for this to work. "Mmm, I guess I'll have to send him a message...I'll pick a time to call him the day before the ceremony but that means we have to finish this before that time or it won't work."

"You will have to distract England-san as well. He won't let you speak to America-san. He would be too suspicious."

Canada closes his eyes and tries to think. "Oh! Scotland! I could ask Scotland to distract him! But England won't let me talk to him either... I have to contact them some other way. But who could I- Oh! I know!"

Canada hurries over to his desk and pulls out a notebook with compiled phone numbers. After much flipping and squinting at hastily scribbled names and numbers he finally finds the one he needs written carelessly in the corner of an otherwise lonely page. Japan watches him as he picks up his phone and starts dialing. "Who are you calling Canada-san?"

"I'm going to call- Oh! H-hello."

"A' don' know who this is but it better be right important. A' have two bettys and a bottle of whiskey waitin' for me."

Canada coughs. "Um, hi Ireland, it's Canada. Before you can ask who that is I'm the one who lives above America... and I look like him."

"Aye, great fecken thing for ya. Now what do ya want?"

Matthew flushes with embarrassment. "U-um... I-I'm really sorry to bother you! I mean, I don't know you very well but I need your help. I-if you're willing to that is! You see England kidnapped America and he's trying to marry him against his will and I need to get a message to him and Scotland-"

Ireland cuts him off. "A' just need ta know one thing. Will A' get ta feck with England?"

"Um... yes?"

"Count me in boyo, but give me the details quick. The whiskey will wait but the women might get restless. Tourists, ya know?"

"Oh! A-alright. Thank you very much!" Canada smiles and gives Japan a thumbs up. Japan tilts his head and returns a peace sign—or more rather v for victory. A solution was found.

~.

England couldn't be more pleased.

America was conducting himself most agreeably. Not only had he helped with lunch yesterday, he had behaved well during both lunch, dinner, and the entire time between. The two of them had fought off and on but it was like their usual day to day arguments they always had which were short, frequent, and rather shallow. There hadn't been a single peep from America about getting away, nor anymore ridiculous attempts to escape. He hadn't so much as brought up his stupid glasses.

England kept expecting something, a sudden burst of defiance, but it never came. Not yet anyway. A small part of him still warned him that America very well might try something. England is aware of this. Still, he just had to remain diligent about keeping an eye on America. There was so little time left before he would be signing the treaty that would make him England's once more.

Arthur's heart thuds heavily at the thought as he looks casually at America over the table. This sight would be greeting him again from now on. No more staring at the empty space and reminiscing about who had once taken the seat across from him. Alfred eats breakfast, oblivious.

Or at least, he appears oblivious. In fact he is trying to ignore the look on England's face that all but screams 'I would rather be eating you than these eggs right now'. America scowls as he picks up his mug. "Could you at least get some coffee? I can't stand tea."

England blinks, taken out of his thoughts. "You might as well get used to it."

America frowns. "Careful, next chance I get I'll dump it all into a harbor again."

England slams his palm against the table. "You did that because you were protesting taxes you bloody idiot! Don't you even know your own history? And what a waste!"

America rolls his eyes. "Whatever, who charges that much for freaking tea? And you wouldn't let me buy from anyone else either. You've always been so controlling and possessive. I guess I shouldn't be too surprised that things have come to this."

There it was. That argumentative, rebellious side of Alfred. "And yet here we are. The more I tried to hold onto you the worse you got. You became such a rambunctious thing, so out of control. But I suppose I always knew it was coming...Even though you were so cute as a kid. What happened?"

America leans back in his chair. "I grew up and wanted my space and you wouldn't give it to me. So I took it."

England narrows his eyes. "And now I'm taking it back. Are you done eating?"

America stands, giving England a somewhat cold look. "Yes."

England looks down at his plate, silently cursing himself for having to fight even when it was to his disadvantage. And things had been going so well too.

America walks out of the room and England stands, picking up their plates. A large crash shatters the somber mood of the room, glass fragments exploding across the floor. Arthur ducks behind the table and cries out. "What the bloody hell?!"

England glances up from behind the table and nearly dies as he sees who is crouching precariously in the shattered window frame. "Top o' the mornin' ta ya Arthur."

Ireland jumps into the room, looking around at the glass littered floor. "Quite the mess ya have here! What a shame!"

England stands and points an accusing finger at him. "What the hell are you doing here you filthy wanker? Get out now!"

Ireland strides over to him and pinches his cheeks hard, pulling them as far as they'll stretch. "Now, now, wouldn' want any more broken windows would ya? Besides, is that anyway ta talk ta ya're big brother? Where is the one A' like anyway? Always hidin' Ian away from me ya little bollocks!"

England grabs at Ireland's hands. "Ouwch! Let gow! Nwo wone invited you, get the hwell ouwt!"

America appears in the doorway. "Hey England, what the hell was that? Hm? Hey, Ireland!"

Ireland looks over England's shoulder, his intense green eyes lighting up as they spot America. He violently shoves England aside and strides over to him. "Well, well, well! A' always forget what a fine thing ya are Alfred! And its been a while since A' last saw ya."

America laughs and rubs the back of his head. "It has been a long time! Still making flashy entrances I see."

Ireland gives him a lopsided, charming smile. "Of course. Now how about a hug lad?"

Ireland snakes his arms around America's waist, pulling the two of them close. America pats his back, smiling.

England cries out, staggering to his feet. "Unhand him at once you shameless filth! I swear, every ounce of bad behavior he has I blame on your influence!"

Ireland turns his head back, not relinquishing his hold on America. "Pog mo thoin ya eejit!"

Scotland walks in. "Ah saw the window was broken an' figured it had te be Quinn, looks like Ah was right."

Ireland beams. "There ya are Ian! My favorite brother! Who is inexplicably in the hands o' my least favorite brother. And that counts Sealand whose just a joke."

He laughs and finally releases America, going over to embrace Scotland.

Scotland glowers at him. "Don' act so friendly, ye do realize Ah'm gonna be the one to clean up this mess right?"

Ireland frowns. "Ya used ta be a lot more fun. That bastard sure has done a number on ya. Do ya still have yar bagpipes at least?"

Scotland bristles defensively. "He has not! And of course Ah do!"

England, flushed with anger and embarrassment, breaks in. "Damn it Ireland! Get out of my house you destructive sex fiend!"

Ireland happily hangs himself casually over Scotland. "Why don' ya make me ya prick?"

England grinds his teeth, ever flustered by Ireland's monstrous behavior. At least Scotland had been beaten into some semblance of submission but Ireland remained a thorn in his side. He lost at least two windows a month from his little 'visits'.

"How do you always get in here anyway? I thought I set up precautions to keep you out!"

Ireland chuckles. "Ya mean the faeries? Ya should know they like me more'n ya. Just use a wee bit o' charm and A'm in. It's the freckles ya know, drives 'em wild."

He points to his face to bring attention to the ones that are sprinkled across his nose and cheeks. "Bless me it is always pleasant ta come here. My house is always swamped with them. A' actually have breathin' room."

America takes note of this. So Ireland had this 'fairy' technology too? How did he have something that America didn't? What was it? It's killing him not to know.

"They're just incompetent! No one in their right mind would let you in anywhere!"

Ireland clicks his tongue. "Now is that anyway to speak about them? Hmmm Perhaps ya're jealous. After all, they just released a list o' the best and worst lovers and ya were number two on the worst list while A' was number five on the best!"

He looks around the room. "Now that A' think about it ya were all on the worst list. Wales was on it too. Am A' the only one in our family that knows how ta shag worth a piss?"

He begins to laugh as the three of them look at him with mixed irritation, disbelief, and general indignation. America points to himself. "I'm on the worst list?! No way!"

Scotland sighs. "Ah...Why?"

Ireland finally lets go of Scotland and shrugs. "Well, America is considered too dominating but A' personally don' see what's wrong with that. A' like it myself. Scotland is too loud but once again A' think that's a plus more than a negative. As for England, he's too lazy which is his own damn fault. No one wants a lazy lover Arthur."

England takes a step back. "L-lazy!? I am not! You bastard!"

Ireland gives him a smug look then pulls America and Scotland close. "How about ya let the fifth best lover in the world help ya improve yar sex life?"

Scotland smacks him in the back of the head. "Eejit!"

England is seething by this point. He walks up and grabs Ireland's shirt. "Stop bragging about your supposed sexual prowess and go away! How many times do I have to tell you-"

Ireland's arms detach from America's and Scotland's shoulders. "Diel mo bhod little bit."

He decks England and shoves him across the room, cracking his knuckles. "Ya don' have a chance against me in a fistfight. Now feck off and let me alone."

He returns his attention to America, who is still sulking over the fact that he was on the worst lovers list. Surely that was some kind of mistake? No, it must be that whoever made it was so jealous of his awesome sex skills they put him on there out of spite! The obvious answer! Suddenly there are arms around his waist and he is chest to chest with someone, startling him out of his poor excuse for a thought process. He looks into green eyes not that different from England's, though the eyebrows are much better groomed. "What do ya say Alfred, want ta go at it? As long as ya're stuck in Europe ya should ally yarself with me. Ah'll blow yar mind guaranteed."

He presses even closer and slides his hands into the back of America's pants. Alfred stiffens. Ireland starts whispering breathily into his ear. "Jus' play along, A' got a message for ya from yar brother."

Then Ireland candidly kisses him, tongue swirling in his mouth. America stands frozen, unsure of how to react. Canada had sent him a kiss through Ireland? A very provocative kiss at that. He becomes aware of Ireland's groping hands then something that wasn't flesh sliding against his skin. Paper. Ireland places it in the waistband of his boxers and retracts his hands. His mouth, however, does not budge. If anything it presses harder against his.

"Oh fer the love of God, what are ye doin' Quinn? That's not funny. Get off him!"

America puts his hands up and grabs at Ireland's back, about to attempt to pull him off. He doesn't have to. Ireland is yanked off of him violently. He stumbles backwards and England quickly squeezes into the space, standing protectively between Ireland and America, arms outstretched. "You can't have him!"

Ireland looks at him then snorts and bursts into gales of laughter. "Ya really are an eejit!"

England hardens his gaze. "Just go get shitfaced in some seedy tavern like you do every day, lucky charms!"

Scotland coughs. Ireland snaps. "Oh! Real clever! Lucky charms! A' expect ya are comparin' me ta that fecken leprechaun with the cereal! Ya expect me ta come river dancin' down a fecken rainbow while A'm at it? A'll river dance my foot right up yar arse!"

Scotland tugs the back of America's shirt, pulling him out of the way as Ireland launches himself at England. Scotland and America silently watch as fists fly between England and Ireland. "'S really somethin' te see."

America nods. "I remember this from when I was little. It's still hilarious. And a little scary."

Scotland smirks. "Well little bit sure don' stand a chance against him. He might have more power behind him but Quinn's always had more spitfire. Makes me miss my youth when Ah was free. Lucky bastard. God Ah hate that shite England. By the way, what did Ireland say when he was violatin' ye?"

America isn't so sure he should say with England so close, even if he was currently busy getting his ass handed to him. "Er, I'll let you know later."

Ireland finally pulls away from England, wiping his mouth. "Fecken.... fecken right. Don' mess with me ya little... ya little bastard."

He shakes his hands then gives a sharp tug on his vest. "Well, A' could murder a pint. A'm borrowin' Ian for a while. Don' wait up."

Ireland winks at America. "My home is yours my mornin' rose."

He grabs Scotland's arm. "Come on, A'm dyin' of thirst!"

Scotland follows him. "Right, Ah haven' been out drinkin' in too long. Ye're payin' though."

"Fine, fine. Ya can repay me in affectionate embraces! Ow! Stop smackin' me!"

America can't help but smile. Those two had really made for a colorful childhood. Though the sexual harassment was new. It is decidedly a bad sign that he is getting used to it though.

England groans and sits up. His lip is bleeding and he would probably have a bruise right under his eye. At least Ireland hadn't broken his nose or something. It had happened in the past.

America watches England gingerly sitting up. A part of him wanted to walk away and read Matthew's note. The better part, or perhaps the hero part, urges him to at least check on England. With a sigh he gives in to that part. "Yo England, did he work you over too much?"

England looks away, not responding. Humiliating, that had been horribly, painfully humiliating. Against his better judgment, America walks over and crouches down next to England. "Hey, are you listening to me? You alright?"

England looks up sharply at America. "I can't believe he kissed you!"

America avoids his gaze for a moment. 'Oh Arthur you have no idea...'

England wipes his mouth. "He's such a bastard, always has been. Still... that's just..."

America laughs awkwardly. "Well... What are you going to do? That's just sort of how he is, isn't it. It's not like it's a big deal."

England's heart constricts painfully. So it was okay if Ireland kissed him? It was just 'how he is'? It was 'not a big deal'? If England had ever kissed America like that in the past he would have beat the shit out of him. Even now Alfred resisted adamantly. Why? Just because he wasn't that fucking git Ireland? Because he was stuffy, boring, apparently lazy in bed England?

America raises an eyebrow. England wasn't saying anything and he's not sure if that's a good or bad sign. Well, it seems he would be okay either way. "I, um, I'm going to my room for a while."

America goes to stand up when England grabs his arm, pulling him back down. "I don't want his kiss to linger on your lips."

"H-huh?"

England tugs him closer and crushes their lips together, his mouth tasting vaguely of blood. He buries his fingers in America's hair and deepens the kiss, intent on erasing all traces of Ireland. He forces America backwards and crawls on top of him, never once breaking contact between them. One hand runs across America's chest while the other tugs at his pants, fingering the button.

America starts to push his hand away and turns his head to end the kiss. "Hey, hey! What do you think you're trying to pull? You said you would wait!"

England grabs America's wrist and pins it to the floor decisively. "I'm sorry Alfred. I'm not sure I can keep that promise anymore."

~.

Scotland and Ireland clink their glasses together then take a long drink. Scotland sighs with satisfaction. "So, back there... did ye really mean what ye said? Are ye trying to get yer hands on America too? Didn' take ye for the kind te do that sorta thing."

Ireland chuckles. "Don' be silly. A' just wanna feck him, A' don' want ta own him. Can ya imagine what a nightmare that would be? Ya'd have ta be totally insane ta want that headache. All A' need is my own little island. Course if A' did maybe A' could get ya back from our eejit brother..."

Scotland pats Ireland's shoulder affectionately. "Don' be ridiculous. Not that simple anymore. Remember when it was easier te win freedom? Now ye have to buy it. It's all about money an' politics. Ah'm close though. No need te do somethin' stupid on behalf of me."

"A' know... Nah, A' wouldn' have done that anyway. His brother called and asked me ta deliver a message for 'im. Slipped it into his boxers when A' was feelin' him up."

Ireland reaches around and puts his arm around Scotland's waist with a slow wink. "Got a message for ya too."

Scotland flushes. "Ye don' have te slip it te me all secretively when we're in public! Jus' give it te me."

"Oh, actually the one A' have for ya is oral."

Scotland pushes him away briskly. "Ye really are nothin' but a saixual pairvert!"

Ireland grins mischievously. "Ain't that the truth. Ye know those bagpipes ya still have? A' hope ya still remember how to play 'em cause that's how ya're gonna save wee Alfred's arse. Literally an' figuratively if ya get my drift. Now, here's what Canada wants ya to do..."

* * *

Translations:

Pog mo thoin-kiss my ass

Diel mo bhod-suck my dick

**AN: **It must be hard to have a brother whose known for being a total sex bot when you have a reputation for being a boring prude. No reason to be so jealous England!

And here is that list of best and worst lovers (though it actually is made up of responses polled from women about men from these countries)

Worst:  
1. Germany (too smelly)  
2. England (too lazy)  
3. Sweden (too quick)  
4. Holland (too rough)  
5. America (too dominating)  
6. Greece (too lovey-dovey)  
7. Wales (too selfish)  
8. Scotland (too loud)  
9. Turkey (too sweaty)  
10. Russia (too hairy)

Best:

1. Spain  
2. Brazil  
3. Italy  
4. France  
5. Ireland  
6. South Africa  
7. Australia  
8. New Zealand  
9. Denmark  
10. Canada


	12. Chapter 12

So, did you guys know yesterday was the anniversary of the Boston tea party? I don't know why but that's always been one of my favorite US historical events -laughs- If I had still been at my college dorm I would have walked down and poured some tea in the river. Ah, and today is apparently speak in a British accent day! Have fun with that, Arthur would approve -laughs-

* * *

America tries to laugh despite the hand pinning his wrist to the floor. Despite the hand that was starting to unbutton his shirt. Despite the look of almost cold determination and lust in England's eyes. "L-look England, enough joking around. You wouldn't go back on your promise like that right? Come on! Stop it now!"

He reaches over with his free hand and seizes England's wrist. "I said stop it!"

England gives him a look that sends a shiver up and down his spine. "Now that I think about it that was never really a promise. Just an ideal scenario. Now is as good as ever."

He rips his hand from America's grip and pins it down as well. At first America is slightly relieved. Now that he didn't have his hands how much could he really accomplish? But what little relief he feels soon vanishes as England lowers his head and bites off one of buttons on America's shirt. He turns his head aside and spits it out before turning back and seizing the next one between his teeth.

Blushing, America twists his back, trying to squirm out of England's grasp. Arthur smirks at him. "Mm, careful, all your doing is turning me on more."

America slumps back against the ground, frustrated with his lack of power. His mind races as England continues to bite off buttons. Little 'clicks' disrupt the pounding of his own heart in his ears each time they hit the ground. When almost all of them are gone England pulls back and forces America up into a sitting position. With one swift movement he releases Alfred's wrists and tugs at the shirt, any remaining buttons at the bottom snapping off and clattering wildly across the floor as he shoves the shirt back, twisting up America's arms in it behind his back. He pushes Alfred back against the floor, further pinning his arms. America winces at the slight ache in one of his arms from the awkward angle it is trapped at.

England practically purrs as he runs a hand down America's bare chest. "God you're beautiful Alfred."

He leans in and starts to leave a trail of kisses from America's lips to his navel. America tries to free his arms, ignoring the occasional twinges of pain that shoot through them. "England-!"

"So very beautiful."

England gently flicks his tongue over one of America's nipples then grazes his teeth over it. A shiver of pleasure surges through his body and America swallows hard. England smirks and repeats the action on the other nipple, taking great pleasure in the way America presses up against him as he does so.

Arthur lovingly cups America's face. "I'm going to make you scream my name until your voice is hoarse."

Then he leans down and captures the lips he has coveted for so long. He really had wanted to restrain himself. This was not how he had intended to finally take Alfred. He had been hoping for something more romantic. Something... more consensual. But while he would surely regret it later he finds in this moment, the taste of Alfred so strong in his mouth, it couldn't have been a more perfect time.

As England deepens the kiss he grinds against America, making them both moan. He pushes it a step further, reaching down and flicking a thumb over one of America's nipples. If possible, he would make America want him. He would make him want this as much as he wanted it.

America tries to catch his breath and clear his mind as he is assaulted with sensation. It's so hot. He can't breath. Too much stimulation, too hot... England's tongue in his mouth isn't helping either. Couldn't let this happen, couldn't but god, god it felt good. Shit, he couldn't think that! But it did, it did, and he kind of wants more...

England starts to suck on America's bottom lip, mouth traveling down his neck, tongue tracing his collar bones... Alfred tastes amazing, he feels amazing, he smells amazing. All England wants to do is drown himself in America, to be as close as is physically possible until neither of them knew where one began and the other ended. Merge their borders. He feels an inkling of amusement at the joke.

America throws his head back and bites his lower lip sharply as England begins to grind harder. Part of England is concerned he will bite too hard and hurt himself, another part hoping he bites hard enough to draw blood. He wanted to lick it, to taste it. However the skin refuses to split. A pity. A good thing. It's hard to say.

England once more traces his fingers lovingly, teasingly down America's torso until they are at his waist. With some fumbled maneuvering he manages to unbutton and unzip America's pants. He stops moving and runs a hand across the thin boxers that are the only obstacle left. America squirms needfully against England's touch. A thin layer of perspiration has lightly coated his skin.

Arthur admires his lovely Alfred, his, all his. No one else could have him or see him this way ever again. A lusty moan escapes Alfred's lips and Arthur's body all but shudders with desire.

_I want you, I want you, please let me have you, let me fuck you, god I want you._

America's breathing has become irregular. England's hand continues to trace him through the hateful boxers with an almost painfully leisurely pace. He's considering telling England to be a man already and just fucking get to it when something unusual rubs against his skin. What was... Oh fuck Canada's note!

America is abruptly snapped out of his lust-crazed state, shivering with shock at how willingly he had almost given himself to England. If England continued to undress him or even if he started reaching around he would most likely find Canada's note and then any chance of rescue would be gone. He had to make England stop, and now!

His tongue is heavy and when he speaks the word comes out a bit awkwardly. "Wh-why?"

England doesn't acknowledge that he spoke, too wrapped up in his own world.

America clears his throat loudly. "Why are you doing this out of nowhere? Is it because Ireland kissed me?"

The name seems to bring England out of his dreamy state, his nose crinkling in disgust. "What about that bloody bastard?"

America looks up at him reproachfully. "This started because of what Ireland did. Maybe I said something? It was just a kiss Arthur."

England's eyes flash dangerously and he withdraws his hands, placing them on either side of America's head. "Just a kiss? Just a bloody kiss? Are you going to tell me if I kiss you right now it will just be a kiss? If I fuck you it will just be sex?"

"Of course not!"

England leans in, breath hot against America's face. "So tell me Alfred, what's the difference? What makes it okay when he does it but not when I do? Huh? Tell me!"

America winces then looks England in the eye. "Because it actually means something when you do it!"

England pulls back as if bitten. "What?"

America repeats his words softly, gently. "It means something when you do it Arthur."

England sits up, his flushed face suddenly flushing even more. America's blue eyes stare back, so clear and sincere. What... what was he doing? He had nearly ... Just because he was... It meant something when he did it...

England leans down and kisses America softly. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

He kisses him again then helps him sit up, untangling his arms from the shirt then pulling him tightly into a hug. He rubs Alfred's back, tapping his head to the side of America's. "God I'm so sorry Alfred."

America breathes a sigh of relief and even brings himself to hug England back. "It's..."

He can't quite bring himself to say 'It's okay.'

The two of them sit like that for a long time. America entertains various ways to finally break the mood and get England to let go. Still, even he can't deny this moment had an almost magical, comforting nostalgic feel to it that was truly rare. Once more he is a child in England's arms, knowing he is completely safe as long as he is in this man's embrace.

Suddenly America realizes that England is crying. He is taken aback. For a second he almost says something then decides England would probably prefer if he pretended not to notice. England had a lot of pride after all. Almost as much as he did. Or, as much as he used to have.

Finally England pulls away, subtly wiping his eyes. "I..."

He pauses, uncertain of what to say. He chews the inside of his lip and winces, having forgotten that it had been hurt. "This was... I'm... Well, I suppose there are some things I should really be attending to."

With that he untangles himself from Alfred and stands, surveying the room in which he had almost taken America. Really it was a poor location anyway. There was too much glass and it was a dining room for heaven's sake! What had gotten into him?

America grabs the ruined shirt and slips it on then fastens his pants. "I'm going to go change."

England nods once, not quite able to look him in the eye. "Alright. I'll let you know when lunch is ready."

America studies England's back framed by the broken window. It almost felt like there was a metaphor in there somewhere, or something symbolic about it... but America had never been one for figuring out such things. He quietly slips out of the room.

England puts a hand lightly on one of the chairs. He feels a little sick. Still a bit horny too, which he chastises himself half-heartedly for. Alfred... he would have Alfred in good time. To rush it... he had almost ruined everything over something so stupid.

Still, it had almost been worth it to hear such pretty words.

"_It means something when you do it Arthur."_

~.

America locks himself in his bathroom before he finally takes out Canada's note, which had started to slip dangerously as he made his way to his room.

He unfolds it, trying to ignore the slight hard on he still has. If he couldn't get it to go away with unerotic thoughts soon he'd take a cold shower.

America has to squint at the writing. It isn't Canada's neat, clear handwriting on the page but rather Ireland's flamboyant scrawl. It was hard enough to read regularly but without his glasses it proves to be a nightmare. Finally he deciphers it with what he decides is 98% accuracy.

_Day before ceremony. Phone call. 5 p.m. England's time. Be near phone and answer as soon as possible. Will have Scotland—_Scotland is written rather clearly, America notes dryly_—distract England (the wee shite). If England catches us I have an excuse ready but it is absolutely necessary I reach you Alfred. If not plan won't work. Miss you. Canada_

America strokes the note as he makes sure every single word is burned into his memory. Once he's sure he can recall the information forwards and backwards he rips it to shreds and flushes it down the toilet.

So, tomorrow at 5 p.m. Canada would call... But what could he have planned that it would be absolutely necessary for Matthew to talk to him on the phone? Well, he supposes he would find out in good time.

Although his problem has mostly disappeared, Alfred decides to take that cold shower anyway. If nothing else it would wash away the sweat and slight sense of shame. How could England touching him like that turn him on so much? It is embarrassing. England was the enemy and this was war.

As America steps into the shower England sips a freshly made cup of tea and wonders just how much it meant something when he kisses Alfred.


	13. Chapter 13

Greetings~ What is this you might say? It's not Thursday! No it isn't! But I have exciting maybe somewhat sad news: Including this one, there are only four chapters left to go! I've pretty much gotten the whole thing written and I'd like to have this story wrapped up by the end of December. So for the next two weeks I will be updating twice a week instead of once for your reading pleasure.

This chapter is a little fragmented which bothers me but... oh well. Hope you enjoy it.

* * *

By the time England really gets around to making something it's closer to supper than either lunch or dinner. He had spent a great deal of time cleaning up the broken glass and covering the window. Usually he would have Scotland do it but he needed something menial to distract him and besides, knowing his brothers Scotland wouldn't be home until an obscene hour of the night. No doubt he'd be filthy fall-down-drunk either. It disgusts him a little he was somehow part of the same family as such uncouth individuals. Then again he had just almost mounted someone on the dining room floor.

In the time he had spent cleaning he had thought very seriously about what he had done. Had almost done. He hopes Alfred can forgive him for the slip. If only there was some way he could make up for it. At the same time to talk about it would be rather embarrassing. It was so hard to say the things he really wanted to say. The things he should be saying.

Well it didn't matter. After tomorrow America would sign the treaty and then there would be plenty of time to figure out the right words.

England looks down at the soup he is making. He crinkles his nose. It wasn't possible to burn soup right? It was probably fine. He sets the burner to low heat and goes to get America.

~.

Alfred lies on his bed, incredibly bored. He wears a fresh button up shirt, contemplating how much he wishes he had a shirt that couldn't be opened with ones mouth. Who knew England would pull a move like that?

There is a light knock on the door and America sits up. "Yeah?"

England's voice is soft, hesitant. "I...made soup if you're hungry."

The sheepish tone assures America that he probably has nothing to worry about from England at the present moment. He stands and opens the door. England looks at him then quickly looks away. "Um, I made soup."

"So you said."

"R-right..."

America can't help but feel baffled. It was hard to believe that the blushing, timid man before him was also the one that had violently kidnapped him from his home and had nearly sexually assaulted him mere hours ago. He doesn't quite know how to address the incident so unless England was going to he decides not to mention it.

"Well...Let's go eat then. I'm hungry."

England looks up at him and nods. "Alright."

The mood is rather uncomfortable between the two of them. England pauses once they get downstairs. "The dining room is mostly clean but it's still probably best not to eat in there. How about we eat in the living room instead?"

America shrugs one shoulder. "Sounds fine to me."

"Right, then I'll go get the soup and you can wait there."

America silently walks in the direction of the living room while England goes for the soup.

England brings it out in two large bowls on a tray. He places a bowl before America wordlessly and then sits across from him with his own bowl. America tries a spoonful of the dark substance and frowns thoughtfully against the spoon. Was this burnt? Oh well, tasted alright either way.

The two of them eat in near agonizing silence. It seems to stretch and even seems to make the food taste bad. Or maybe the food just sucked.

England tries to say something, changes his mind. A while later America almost makes a snide remark then decides it would just make things more awkward.

America can't help but feel relieved when he's finished eating. "It was... well it was interesting."

"Not too bad I hope? I think I got the recipe wrong."

America chuckles. "Like that time when you tried to make some French dessert and thought the flour was powdered sugar then burnt the cake into a rock anyway?"

England opens his mouth to defend himself then begins to laugh as well. "I guess that was a pretty pathetic attempt."

The two of them laugh, breaking some of the oppressive mood.

And time passes slowly.

~.

Once again America is lying on his bed, but this time he is considering going to sleep. The sooner he slept the sooner it would be tomorrow and the closer he would be to Canada's phone call. He slips out of his clothes until he is in his boxers. He is about to turn off the light when there is a nervous knock at the door.

America pauses. "...Hello?"

The door opens slowly and America stands frozen. Even the other day he hadn't really cared so much about England seeing him in his boxers but after today he feels somewhat uneasy. He looks around, thinking that maybe he should hide under the blankets, but his body doesn't respond. No matter, it's too late.

England peeks his head in and seems taken by surprise when he sees America standing indecisively between the door and bed in his boxers. For a moment he simply stares then seems to snap out of it and averts his gaze to the ground. "Sorry... I... I just wanted to let you know that tomorrow I have the outfit I want you to wear at the ceremony picked out and I'd like you to try it on."  
America frowns slightly. Outfit...? What, the wedding dress? No fucking way. But he doesn't much feel like arguing right now. "Yeah, sure."

England opens his mouth, hesitates, closes it, opens it again. "I'm... I know I said it before but... I'm sorry about today. I... But I'm... I'm glad it means something when... Let's put that behind us shall we?"

America shrugs, nods. "Alright. We can do that."

England smiles weakly. "Goodnight Alfred."

After a pause America returns the smile. "Goodnight...Arthur."

England hesitates, as if wanting to say something more then finally closes the door softly. America turns off the lights before collapsing onto the bed. He rubs his face against the pillow. What a weird thing for England to say. 'I'm glad it means something.' He doesn't doubt it's in reference to what he had said earlier. Obviously it meant something. After all, England had been his big brother and had raised him. When he kissed him it was almost like a betrayal of that. What was there to be glad of?

England was so strange, much stranger than he had ever known.

After staring into the dark for what feels like a long time America finally slips off. Apprehension seeps into his dreams making it so he finds no relief even in sleep.

~.

England knows he shouldn't be doing this. If America caught him... well he looked bad enough right now but he can't help it. Holding his breath, he opens the door and blinks. His eyes are already adjusted to the dark and he can see the bed faintly. The deep, even breaths America takes are audible indications that he is asleep.

England silently walks towards the bed and stands over Alfred, eyes lovingly caressing his face in the dark. He's glad America sleeps like the dead. How creepy would it be if he woke up to see England standing over him while he slept?

After quietly observing him for a while England carefully pulls up the chair that sits off to the side of the room and sits next to the bed. He's sure that America wouldn't understand, couldn't understand why he was doing all of this. Even 'I love you' did a poor job of explaining it. In fact that would probably only confuse him more. England barely understands it himself.

How does one explain the need to possess another with such intensity it aches? To desire another person to the point it is frightening. To require someone as if they are oxygen. Especially when he had taken such pains to hide his growing obsession, his increasing feelings. England's equilibrium had been off since the shock of America's war of independence. To have him back would not only return that balance, it would finally set his heart at peace. Alfred would be his, to love and protect.

Arthur knows he should leave soon but he just wants to watch over America a little while longer. Even when his eyelids start to feel heavy he holds out. Just a bit longer... Then he would go. Just a little...

England falls asleep in the chair.

~.

America wakes up abruptly. Perhaps from a dream. He can't tell what had pulled him so unexpectedly from sleep but it is still dark so it can't be time to get up. He turns over, about to go back to sleep when he sees England slumped over in the chair. He freezes, breath catching in his lungs until he realizes that England is asleep.

America takes a deep breath. That had startled him. He sits up and considers England for a long moment. What was he supposed to think of him? He was his guardian, his brother, his chastiser, his friend, his debate partner, his captor, his would-be lover...

With a tired sigh he pulls the top blanket off of his bed and drapes it over England. "I don't hate you Arthur. I really don't. I hope you know that."

England mumbles something in his sleep. America shakes his head and crawls back into bed. For a long time he simply can't seem to calm his mind but finally, after much tossing and turning, he falls into a restless sleep.

~.

The light that spills into the room wakes England with a start. He hadn't meant to fall asleep! He sits up, his body cramped uncomfortably from sleeping in such an awkward position. His eyes are drawn to the blanket that slips down his body. He touches it as if not quite believing it is there. His eyes jump to the sleeping frame of America and water slightly. He swallows the lump in his throat.

Hope... Did he really dare to hope?

~.

America waits nervously on the bed. England was fetching the outfit he was to wear for tomorrow. Neither of them brings up the fact that England slept in America's room last night. This suited both of them just fine.

America's restless mind recalls something England had said yesterday. Something about a wedding dress... He grits his teeth. So help him God, if Arthur expected him to wear a wedding dress he had another thing coming! Fidgeting impatiently, he looks up sharply when the door finally opens.

England enters holding a hanger, a long protective cover containing the clothing inside. He presses it into America's hands. "Here, put this on. I'll be back soon to see how it looks."

Without another word he leaves the room. America glares down at it with loathing. As if a hero like himself would wear a dress! That was for the damsel! Finally curiosity gets the better of him and he unzips it, expecting to be sent into a rage.

For a moment all he can do is blink in surprise. It's not a wedding dress after all. It is a very expensive looking black suit. There is also a dark blue formal shirt and a black silk tie. America takes it completely out of its protective cover and holds it up. It was really quite nice. He purses his lips thoughtfully. But England had said... Well, as long as he didn't actually have to wear a wedding dress... America begins to undress and slips into the suit. It fits comfortably, almost perfectly. America looks at himself in the mirror. And damn did he make it look good. There's a gentle knock at the door.

"Yeah come in."

England enters, his eyes lighting up as he catches sight of America. "Wonderful, it looks like it fits perfectly! I'm relieved. Here, turn around for me."

America does as he asks. England nods approvingly and walks over, running his hands over the shoulders, head tilted as he examines him up close.

America looks down at himself a bit self-consciously. "I have to say I'm kind of relieved. I swear, I thought you were going to pull some crap and try to actually get me to wear a wedding dress. I would have punched your lights out if you had."

England adjusts his tie. "I never had any intention of making you wear a wedding dress. I was just teasing you when I said that. It's not like I'm doing this to humiliate you after all."

America can't help but frown. "Then would you tell me why you are doing this?"

England furrows his brow. Wasn't it obvious? Was Alfred really that thick?

"It's because-!"

_I love you_

But the words won't come. England dares not utter them. Because it would hurt more than he could bear if he said them and they were rejected. Maybe he was pathetic but he would rather die never having admitted it than saying it only to have America deny the words with contempt. That's why he would be satisfied if America would just admit he needed him. Knowing the words he truly wanted to hear would never be spoken, it would be enough for England to hear that much at least.

"... I don't have to tell you anything."

America sighs in frustration. "Fine. Don't tell me then."

England swallows hard. His chest hurts. But still, the words stay locked back in his mouth. He gives the tie a small pat. "You look... you look really good. As always."

America looks at himself in the mirror, and then England and America are looking at each other watch the other in the mirror. Almost simultaneously they look away. America pulls at the tie. "Can I take it off now?"

"Mm."

Alfred shrugs off the coat and loosens the tie, throwing both on the chair carelessly.

England watches this then steps up behind America and slips his arms around him, hands resting on his chest. He presses his face against America's neck and takes a deep breath through his nose. Underneath the lingering crisp smell of the new suit is Alfred's personal scent. He closes his eyes and tightens his grip. "Tomorrow you won't cause any problems right? You'll do what you're supposed to won't you? I don't want this to be difficult Alfred."

America puts a hand over England's left hand, the hand the rests above his heart. "What's the fun in that?"

England nuzzles his neck then very lightly bites it. "Do not test me. Quite frankly I am a bit too desperate to take resistance with grace."

America tightens his grip on the hand. "I see. Well... You know me. I'm pretty useless when it comes to following anyones rules but my own. Let's just say I'll do my best."

This is good enough for Arthur. He presses his forehead against Alfred's back for a moment then finally pulls away. "I'll let you get undressed then. Make sure you actually hang up the suit."

America waits until England has left then stares at himself in the mirror. Hesitantly he brings his hand up and presses it against the cool surface, eyes locked with his reflection's. It comes to his attention that he is trembling. He pulls his hand away and clenches it into a fist, willing his body to be still. It would be okay. Everything was going to be okay...

~.

America sits on a chair in the small study, a book in his hand. It is hard to pretend he is even vaguely interested in it. Across from him England works on a piece of needlework. Usually America would be teasing him relentlessly for his totally unmanly hobby but he didn't want to rile him up too much. After all, he might banish him to his room for bad behavior or something and this was one of the few rooms in the house that had a phone that wouldn't seem suspicious if America wanted to be in it. All he had to say was he wanted to spend some time with just the two of them hanging out, casually chose the room, and Arthur had been none the wiser.

Perhaps it had been a bit suspicious when he pretended to want to read a book but he had to act like he was deeply engaged in something so that when England was finally distracted it wouldn't occur to him to be worried about him. Thinking of which he had no idea how that was supposed to work. Scotland hadn't made an appearance since he left with Ireland yesterday and so America had never been able to hash over the details with him. He just had to hope it was all figured out.

America glances over the top of the book at England. Well, maybe one little joke. He can't resist. "What are you working on over there Arthur? A parade of unicorns?"

England doesn't rise to the bait so easily. "I will have you know this is an art form of which I am a master. And if you must know, I'm working on a rose currently."

America lets out a poorly suppressed snort of laughter. "Oh a rose, the manliest of all flowers."

England gives him a look as sharp as his needle. "Do shut up. If that book isn't interesting enough to capture your short attention span we can always do something else."

The humor deflates from the situation immediately. "N-no, it's fine."

He quickly sticks his nose back into the pages and lets his eyes unseeingly skim the page. After a minute of this his eyes flick as casually as possible to the clock on the desk that sits to his right. Less than five minutes left. His heart begins to pound wildly. It's almost like he can feel time slipping away. Where was the distraction? Suddenly there is a great whine from the other room. The two of them sit up.

America's face scrunches up in confusion. "Do you hear a dying cow?"

After another second the whine turns into some semblance of sound and then slips into music. England clicks his tongue in disgust. "Oh bloody hell! Scotland is playing his ruddy bagpipes! I could have sworn I took those away from him."

England shakes his head and tries to concentrate on his needlework. America glances nervously at the clock. It was almost five. The music continues. England's frown becomes more severe by the second. Finally he throws his needlework aside and stands, quickly exiting the room just as a clock begins to strike five from somewhere else in the house. America's whole body tenses until England is out of the room. The second he is out of sight, America scrambles next to the phone, prepared to pick it up at a moment's notice. However, the clock continues to toll, crying out the time... and then it stops. America licks his lips nervously, mouth suddenly dry. It was past five.

Call, please call...

Vaguely, he can hear England banging on a door, voice raised angrily. "Do you hear me? If you don't stop that playing this instant I'm going to smash that damned thing to pieces!"

Please call now. Now? Now! Please, please, please!

America holds his breath and wills for the silent phone to ring.

* * *

**AN: **I apologize for the dying cow comment -laughs- I actually really like the bagpipes. I also really feel terrible for lil' Iggy. But I sympathize with both of their situations.


	14. Chapter 14

America closes his eyes and silently begs the phone to ring. England's banging is becoming louder, then is drowned out again by Scotland's playing. The phone still does not ring.

America lifts his face upwards. 'I'm begging you God, gods, all the deities and powers that be of my people, make Mattie call already!'

And then sweet, delicious relief as there is a single shrill ring. For a split second its meaning is lost on America. Then it clicks. Just as the second ring is starting America hurriedly picks it up, hoping beyond hope that England hadn't heard. "Hello?"

"H-hello, Alfred is that you?"

Since when did Matthew sound like an angel? Alfred almost cries with relief. "Yeah it's me... It's me. What the fuck took you so long?"

He quickly lowers his voice and crouches down, hiding behind the chair. He plugs one ear to try and block the cacophony that comes from the hallway.

"I'm sorry! I called as close to the equivalent as I could calculate. How much time do we have?"

America glances at the doorway nervously, half expecting a very angry England to be standing there. "Not long. Just lay it on me. How are you saving my ass?"

There is a very short pause. "Well... Okay, I want to try something but... I can't guarantee it will work. Japan has been here and we've just barely finished writing a new treaty that will still help you much like England's without requiring a union with anyone else. The problem is it has to be here for a while longer to be fully finalized meaning we don't have time to get your signature on it before tomorrow if we want it to be official in time. And... and if you sign England's treaty before mine then it will be null."

America's heart sinks. This wasn't sounding so good. "So what do you have in mind? I mean, if I can't sign it..."

Canada cuts in. "I... I think I've found a solution! An oral agreement!"

America blinks. "Oral... agreement?"

"Yes, an oral agreement. For now it will simply be implied that you agree to join the treaty and your word will be the equivalent of your signature. Once we have you out of England's house you can put your name on it for real, strengthening and finalizing everything! I mean... I know it's kind of a weak solution but it's the only one we have. And we've all used oral agreements of some kind or another throughout our histories, just like we've had implied alliances and agreements. So I'm hoping it will be strong enough to work! If it has worked then you should know by tomorrow morning. The only problem is if it fails then there won't be time to figure out a new solution and..."

America cuts him off. "Alright, let's do this. It's worth a shot right?"

"R-right! I'll do this as quickly as possible."

America tries to focus on Canada's voice alone as he gives a rundown of the treaty and what it entails. He tries very hard to ignore the fact that it sounded like England had finally broken down the door. There wasn't much time left.

Finally, very breathless and nervous to the point of collapse, Canada asks, "Do you agree to these terms and give consent and your word that you intend to become a part of this treaty and abide by it?"

The sound of bagpipes no longer fills the air.

"I, Alfred F. Jones, officially recognized as the United States of America, consent to these terms and give my signature."

Canada lets out a relieved sigh. "But... but what if it doesn't work? It will be all my fault! It-"

America cuts him off. "No, you've done your best. I know you have. Thank you Matthew. I love you so much. And if it doesn't work.... I'll marry England."

There is alarm in Canada's voice. "But-!"

"But nothing. I have faith in you. It will work. And if it doesn't... It doesn't."

Canada wants to protest, America can tell. "It's okay I said."

Finally Canada speaks and America notices for the first time that he sounds nearly dead from exhaustion. "Tomorrow Scotland will ask you what kind of morning it is. If this worked then you will say 'It's a good morning to be an American.' If it doesn't..."

England and Scotland are yelling at each other.

"Then you'll say 'It's a good morning to be English.' Then Scotland will give us a signal of which he's already been told so that we'll know. Oh Alfred, Al! I... I love you!"

America smiles fondly. "I know... You're the best little brother in the entire universe, just... just so you know."

A door is slamming. Angry footsteps...

"I have to go, take care. I'll see you tomorrow Canada. And... and I just know by then I'll be free."

"Al-!"

America hangs up and throws himself in the chair just as England enters the room again, face flushed with anger. Something is in his hand. America realizes it's the chanter from Scotland's bagpipe. He mentally apologizes to Scotland and makes a note to get him one of the nicest bagpipes in the world for his sacrifice.

"Bloody git. One would think his hangover would keep him from being so loud! I swear..."

He carelessly tosses the chanter aside and sits back down, taking up his needlework. "Was it entertaining listening to that?"

America's heart is still pounding. There are so many things on his mind now, so many things he has to organize it's hard to think, to concentrate. "Er... yeah I guess so. It was rather noisy anyway."

England shakes his head. "Ireland is the worst influence on him... I don't even want to think about it. Are you really interested in that book?"

America glances at the book that he had picked up without noticing and realizes it is upside down. Without a second thought he tosses it aside. "Hell no. Let's do something else."

England raises an eyebrow then smiles. "I thought as much. Well, what shall we do?"

America tries to think. Something that would let him process all this information... Bingo. "Let's play chess."

"Chess?"

America nods. "Yeah, chess. You want to?"

England shrugs. "Alright then. I'll go find my set. It's been a while since I used it." His eyes catch sight of the phone and widen. "In fact, why don't you come with me."

America stands. "Sure, sure."

He smiles easily as he follows England out of the room. The long pauses England took to think would allow him time to process what had just happened. Besides, America might not be the smartest of the countries but he was damn good at chess. Russia was the only one who could ever really give him a run for his money and he certainly wasn't here. Or at least, America hopes he isn't. He shivers and throws a paranoid glance over his shoulder, half-expecting him to be smiling in the shadows.

~.

Canada stares at the phone.

"Canada-san? Are you okay?"

Canada blinks, as if coming out of shock. "Y-yes... I... I think we can consider that a success. I just... I hope it works. Please let it work!"

Japan puts a hand very lightly on his shoulder. "You should get some rest. You've done very well and now all we can do is wait."

Canada chews his finger restlessly. "Nn... no, I... I have an idea to get one more co-signer on the treaty. Once I do that then I can rest."

Japan tilts his head. "Who would that be Canada-san?"

Canada pauses then can't help but smirk. "Papa France. I have a stamp that can be used for his signature, I just need his permission to use it."

He picks up the phone and starts to dial again.

"Nani? I thought you said France-san was on England-san's side."

Canada brightens. "Ah, but I know just what to say. Trust me, he'll agree."

He puts up a silencing finger as France picks up. "Hello France, this is Canada."

France gushes through the phone. "Oh, bonjour mon cher, to what do I owe this truly undeserved blessing?"

Canada makes his voice as innocent as possible. "I was just wondering if you would give me permission to use your signature stamp on a document."

A reserved note enters France's voice. "And what document would that be my ange?"

Canada looks down at the treaty. "Maybe it has to do with supporting countrywide public nudity."

"P-public nudity?! My darling Matthieu, I not only give you permission to use my stamp I demand you do! Oh, I'm so proud of you!"

Canada keeps his voice as sweet as syrup. "Thank you so much Francis! I'll see you bright and early tomorrow."

France continues to gush. "Yes, and I can't wait to see your absolutely lovely face as well! Au revoir my sweet!"

Canada hangs up. "Too easy."

Japan looks at him in awe. "And I thought you were surely an innocent uke. Perhaps I have misjudged your abilities Canada-san!"

Canada stares at him blankly. "You thought I was a what now?"

Japan shakes his head. "Never mind Canada-san, it does not matter."

Confused, Matthew just smiles. "O-okay. Well I'm going to put France's stamp on this and then I'm going to get some sleep before we have to get going. You should try to get some rest as well. You've also worked hard and I couldn't have done it without you!"

Japan bows. "I did very little. It was surely you who are responsible for the treaty's success."

Canada beams and blushes at the praise. "Th-thank you. But really I just... W-well let me get that stamped then I'll hand it off so it can be put into motion."

Canada puts the final stamp on the treaty and feels very light and very big. He can hardly believe it but he had done it. He had really done it. He gives it to one of his people and it feels as if a weight has been removed from his chest. It is out of his hands. All he can do is pray it goes well tomorrow.

Now time to sleep.... Oh but that reminded him. He taps Japan on the shoulder and hands him a piece of paper. "Er, um, I... I'm afraid I don't understand the prank Japan."

Japan stares at him, not looking at the paper at first. "...Prank? Gomen na sai, I do not know what you mean."

Canada rubs the back of his head. "Well I saw that fake clause you put in the treaty. Something about Alfred taking pictures for you. I mean it's kind of funny but... Well I'm sort of tired so I guess I don't get it. I'm sure Al has lots of pictures if you would really like some though! Oh but it was a joke right? Sorry I guess I don't make any sense! I'm going to go take a nap. If I oversleep wake me up. We don't want to miss our flight."

As Canada walks away Japan looks down at the clause he had tried to sneak into the treaty gloomily. He bows his head. "Ancestors...I have failed."

~.

England stares out the window, watching the last bit of light gradually die away. America sits on his bed smirking. "Don't tell me you're still sulking just because I totally kicked your ass earlier."

England turns and snaps furiously, "I am not sulking! You just got lucky! It's been a long time since I've played! Shut up!"

America laughs. "You just can't admit that I'm actually smarter than you at something."

"Better," England snaps. "Better not smarter, you idiot!"

With a cocky grin America lays back. "Whatever you say loooser."

England narrows his eyes angrily then looks back out the window, muttering, "I'm just rusty."

The room grows very quiet, a soothing silence quite different from the silence they had been suffering in as recently as yesterday. England looks over at America. "You know...After tomorrow... I want you to know that I am going to take really good care of you. I'll get everything straightened out and soon you'll be right as rain. I just... I don't want you to see being with me as a burden."

America props himself up with his elbows. "Just what kind of life do you envision with me? Are you going to keep me in a gilded cage like you used to?"

England sighs. "I just want to do what will be best for you in the end! I have no intention of keeping you as a prisoner but... well, it might be wise for you to have minimal contact with the rest of the world until you've become stronger. Who knows what they might try to do to you?"

America thinks he might have a pretty good idea. "How much are you profiting off this arrangement out of curiosity."

England is silent for a moment. "...I profit quite a bit. After all... I'll have you Alfred. And you will need me."

"You sound like a real creep, you know that? So I'll be your plaything?"

England is starting to lose his temper. "I never said that! Is there a reason you're trying to pick a fight all of a sudden? What do you want me to say? That you're going to be my imprisoned love slave, hidden away from the world's eyes? God Alfred, stop being a child!"

America lays back down. "Hmph. Whatever. After the ceremony are you going to fuck me?"

England flushes. Why was he suddenly being such a little bastard? Well if he wants to play it that way... He strides over and leans over America, green eyes flashing. "That's right. In fact the two of us are going to redefine the term 'thoroughly screwed'. Satisfied?"

America turns over on his side. England is at a loss. He sits on the bed next to America's turned back. "I'm sorry if you're unhappy. I really don't know what to say to you. You'll come to see that this is for the best. I promise."

He strokes America's hair. America does not respond. "Well... Tomorrow is a very busy day. Don't stay up too late. Scotland will come wake you up bright and early. And I've all but tripled security, just so you are aware. Believe it or not I want you to be happy Alfred..."

_I just want you to be happy with me._

England looks at America's back a moment longer then pulls something out of his breast pocket and sets it on the nightstand. "Goodnight Alfred."

Once the door closes America sits up and looks over at the nightstand. His eyes widen and with great care he picks up Texas, holding them as if they are a lost relic. He strokes them then puts them back down. No need to wear them this second. Still...

Why had he been such an asshole to Arthur? He had to be. Of course he had to. No matter how difficult it was it had to be done. He had to harden his heart to England. After all, if Canada's plan worked out what he was about to do was going to be incredibly cruel. Affection for Arthur, feelings of pity or sympathy or even love would get in the way. America was damn good at chess and what was chess but a game of strategy?

One had to know when to sacrifice the proper pieces to win.

* * *

**AN: **A chanter is the part of a bagpipe where the fingers are and the music is played. It's the most delicate part and can be easily removed. So says my friend who plays them *laughs* I hope everyone either has a great Christmas or a lovely Holiday season in general! Next chapter is the climax so you should be excited~ haha


	15. Chapter 15

Hello everyone~ Guess what, today is my birthday! I have officially moved away from ages that end in 'teen' to ones that end in 'ty'. Guhhh I don't know how I feel about that. Anywho~ This chapter was given lots of love and effort so I hope you enjoy it!

* * *

America looks around him uncertainly. Before him is a long hallway. There are no windows and it is barely illuminated enough for him to see. At the end he can very faintly make out the outline of light coming through a door crack. He looks behind him but there is only a solid wall. He is overwhelmed with a feeling of anxiety and he is not sure why. Swallowing hard, Alfred starts walking down the corridor. If he wanted to get anywhere it seemed to be his only option. About halfway to the door he becomes aware of how cold it is. Shivering violently, he reaches up to rub his arms and is shocked to feel nothing but skin. Looking down at himself he realizes that he is naked.

"Wh-what the hell? Where are my clothes?" Well, this discovery made no more sense then finding himself at the end of a hallway with only one exit. It seemed all he could do was push onwards.

Finally he reaches the door and pushes it open. Matthew stands in the middle of a large bedroom. America tries to look around more but the details escape him and become indistinct in his mind the second he looks away. Matthew looks up at Alfred, his eyes sad.

"Mattie! Hey, what's going on? What is this crazy place?" Canada doesn't respond at first and turns away from him. "Oh come on! Why won't you answer me?"

Just as he reaches out to grab his brother's shoulder, Canada turns to face him. "I'm so sorry Al, it didn't work. I tried. I really did...But I failed. So I have to go now. Goodbye Alfred!"

Canada waves. Before his eyes, Canada begins to shrink smaller and smaller until he disappears. America sinks to the ground, eyes straining to find him. "M-Matthew! Where did you go? Don't leave!"

It's no good. There's no trace of him. Unsure of what to do next, America gets back on his feet. No sooner does he do that then he is roughly turned around.

France winks at him saucily, utterly naked. "Hello there my delightful sweet. Prepare to be savored like one of my finest desserts!"

With that he gives America a mighty push. America stumbles back a few paces and finally steadies himself against something... a bed? America turns his head and confirms that he is half sitting on the edge of a bed. Before he can decide what to do next France is sidling up next to him, grabbing his arm. He nuzzles America's neck, nibbling lightly on his ear. "Mmm, I shall savor every last bite!"

"Be sure to leave some for me."

America's head turns so fast he practically gets whiplash. Now on his other side is a smirking Russia, naked all but his scarf. He presses himself against America, a hand caressing his stomach. "I'm going to become one with you America.... all night long and in a wide variety of different positions."

America stares at him in horror. He seems to have lost the ability to speak or resist for that matter. All he knows is that this is a nightmare.

Suddenly his legs are being hoisted up. Looking down he sees a nude Japan lifting his legs over his shoulders. He lightly kisses America's inner thigh. "Hello America-chan. Please allow me to punish you. I assure you that you will be begging me to humiliate you further in no time."

Between France's hot mouth working its way across one side of America's neck and face, Russia's hands wandering across his torso and back, and Japan's gentle kisses and caresses on his legs, America is unpleasantly overwhelmed.

As if a horrible spell is suddenly broken, America finds his voice. "NOOOOOOoooooooooo!"

The roof is suddenly ripped off of the building and America cries out in shock. An enormous England glares down into the room. When he speaks his voice absolutely booms. "Unhand what belongs to me you trash!"

Giant England reaches down and brushes the others away, picking up America in his fist.

As America is lifted into the air he does the only logical thing. He freaks the fuck out. "Augh! Gya! Shit! Oh god put me down! Fuck! What the hell is this?! Put me down!"

England brings America close to his face, green eyes like enormous moons. He smirks. "You belong to me Alfred. Now that I have you back I'll never let you go again."

Then to his further horror, a giant tongue peeks out from England's lips and licks half of his body. America shudders in revulsion. "Dear god someone save me!"

England begins to cackle wildly. "There's no one to save you. You belong to me _forever_!"

America screams.

~.

America sits up in bed, whole body damp with sweat. He breathes hard, trying to force the hideous after images that linger from his dream out of his memory. He sits like that for a long time staring at his hands, clenching and unclenching them until Scotland comes for him.

Scotland looks grim. "Ye're awake... Ah brought yer clothes, from when ye were first brought here. Wasn' sure if ye would need them... but just in case. So... What kind a' mornin' is it?"

America looks up at him, face utterly unreadable. "Can you... get something for me? Two things actually."

Scotland looks at him uncertainly. "Alright, but what kind a' mornin'-"

"Please just do it."

Scotland tries to read America but there is no emotion that particularly plays over his face. He doesn't seem dismayed but he doesn't seem overjoyed either. He just looks... He looks like a man who knows his fate and is acting accordingly. "...What do ye need?"

~.

When Scotland returns America stands before the mirror. Scotland takes note of the outfit he had chosen to wear. Still, it didn't confirm anything.

America looks over at Scotland. "You got them okay?"

Scotland nods and holds both items out. "Aye, Ah got 'em just fine."

America slips the first item into his pocket without a second glance. Then he takes the second, a large British flag. He rubs the material with his thumb and looks at it as if trying to determine its quality. "Good, this will do. Thank you Scotland."

He drapes it over his left shoulder. Scotland waits for something more but America just returns to the mirror, face grim. "Well laddie, what sign should Ah give 'em?"

America looks at him through the mirror. "None."

"...None?"

America shakes his head and walks over to the dresser. He picks up Texas and lovingly presses them onto his face. Perhaps it was just his own imagination hyping up the reunion but he feels more complete with them on. His thoughts clearer.

"However, there is one more thing you could do for me..."

~.

Canada yawns so big his jaw pops. France grins at him. "Oh my, why so tired mon petit? Perhaps you had a late night with your porcelain beauty friend here?"

Canada blushes and Japan chokes on the tea that England had offered them. "N-no! Why would you say that?"

France waves his hand. "No need to be shy with me. You can tell me everything. And I do mean everything~!"

Canada turns away from him, face flushing. "You're such a pervert France."

Japan says something indistinguishable and buries his face in his cup.

France laughs lightly and eats one of the pastries he had brought. He knew he wouldn't be able to count on England to provide something edible for his guests.

Canada looks nervously around. After the three of them had arrived they had been greeted by England and the four of them had chatted for a while. France immediately asked about the bruises on England's face. They had all mentally assumed they were from America but England was quick to tell them it was Ireland, using a few other choice words to talk about him.

Canada is impressed with the casual way in which Japan spoke with England without giving the slightest hint he was trying to double cross him. The whole time he holds his tongue, terrified he would let something slip. As it was he kept expecting England to somehow figure out what was happening, perhaps because Canada happened to think about it a little too hard or through osmosis.

Finally England had taken them to a larger room meant for entertaining guests. It had been cleared, some British patriotic music playing from somewhere Canada couldn't quite figure out. A few chairs had been set out for them and a small table containing the treaty and a pen were a few feet away. A deceptively simple set up for what might be the end of an independent U.S.A.

Canada forces his mind away from that thought. To even consider it was... Now they were just like onlookers waiting to see an execution, Canada can't help but think.

France is trying to get Canada's attention again when something moves out of the corner of his eye. He turns to see what it is and freezes. Russia sets a chair down beside him, crosses his legs, folds his hands in his lap, and smiles.

France's mouth silently opens and closes like a pantomime fish. "R-Russia?! Wh-what are you doing here? You weren't invited to this!"

Russia turns his head, still smiling sweetly. "I know. Which I won't be forgetting for a long, long time."

France shivers. By this time Canada and Japan are staring at him as well. He leans forward slightly and waves at them. Both wave helplessly back. They look at each other questioningly and both shrug uncertainly. Russia was a total wild card. However the three of them reach the silent verdict that it was probably best to pretend he wasn't there.

France leans back, trying to laugh off the anxiety. "W-well I can't wait to see little Alfred in a flowing white dress! He'll be quite the sight to see."

Canada raises an eyebrow. "Erm... I don't think he's going to be wearing a wedding dress. This is a union ceremony, not an actual wedding. England doesn't seem like the type to do that kind of thing anyway."

France throws a horrified hand over his mouth. "Mon dieu you're right! Why didn't I think of that? No! I wanted to see him in a wedding dress!"

Canada feels a tug on his sleeve and turns. Japan looks up at him sadly, camera in hand. "You... really don't believe he will be wearing a wedding dress Canada-san?"

Canada stares at him blankly. "Uh...."

Russia giggles to himself. Whether about Alfred in a wedding dress or something of his own device Canada has no desire to know.

Just then England enters. "So sorry to keep you all waiting. Scotland will be bringing Alfred soon. Once he signs the treaty there will be a short reception then you may stay or go as you please. There will be a meeting on Monday to-"

He notices Russia for the first time and stares at him. "Russia... what the bloody hell are you doing here?"

Russia looks at him with that childish face. "Sitting."

England slowly turns away for a moment, seems to have a silent debate over what to do then turns back. "Well... Don't interfere and I won't protest your presence I suppose."

Russia points at himself. "Me interfere? I wouldn't dream of it!"

England has a very bad feeling but decides he would just have to deal with it when it became a problem. "Right... I'll... discuss the rest of the details afterwards."

Russia tilts his head. "Oh please don't let me stop you from revealing any important information."

England gives him an incredulous look. "...Like I said, afterwards."

France notices the way England's hands fidget restlessly, like birds unable to perch. "Well I'm sure it will be very brief. After all, you'll be wanting to authenticate the union with a physical act I'm sure."

England narrows his eyes at France and crooks his finger twice, indicating for France to get up to talk to him. Curious, he stands and approaches England. "Oui?"

England puts a hand on France's shoulder and squeezes hard, speaking very softly. "You touched him didn't you? Don't try to deny it, I know you too well. Later I'll probably kick your arse, but for now I'll simply punch you."

France tries to protest when England smashes his fist into his face. France stumbles back holding his cheek. In the background Canada gasps and Russia giggles wildly. England cracks his knuckles. "Never touch him again fool."

France sniffs indignantly. "You are truly the worst brute I have ever met! Where are your proper English manners? Besides, he was asking for it, do you hear me!"

England is about to snap France's neck when Scotland opens the door. "We're all ready out here if ye are."

England swallows hard. "Y-yes."

He gives France a death glare then walks over to the table. France grumpily goes back to his seat.

Canada frowns worriedly. Scotland hadn't given him a sign. Why hadn't he given a sign? There was no telling if his plan had worked or not. Japan subtly looks his way, barely raising a questioning eyebrow. Canada shakes his head ever so slightly._ I don't know._

All heads crane to get a better look as the door fully opens. America takes a few hesitant steps in. England almost scowls at his attire. America is wearing his own clothes instead of the suit Arthur had picked. Well, if it was his last ditch effort at being defiant, he could handle that. Besides, he can't help but notice with some satisfaction the flag he wears on his shoulder.

It doesn't escape Canada either, who almost starts hyperventilating. What was going on? As America starts to walk forward he tries to give him a questioning, meaningful look. A hint, a smile or frown, anything. He wanted any sign. But Alfred looks determinedly forward, not wanting to give lingering looks at the four faces that stare at him. His eyes flicker over long enough to catch all of their basic expressions, nothing more.

Japan's somewhat disappointed frown.

Canada's state of near panic.

France's smug and amused smirk.

Russia's psychotic grin.

What the fuck was Russia doing here?

No time to worry about that. He shakes it off and instead turns his attention to England, eyes locking with his, never wavering until he reaches the table. For a moment there is nothing but very strong, silent tension between the two of them and America wonders if England might kiss him right there and then.

America blinks, breaking the spell. England clears his throat, so nervous he can barely think. He feels light headed. The moment he had been waiting for had arrived. It was mere moments away. America... Alfred would be his once more.

Arthur holds out the pen. For a moment America has a flashback of the war of independence, reaching out for Arthur's hand after defeating him, the tears he had cried...that they had both cried... "Once you have signed this treaty your country, the United States of America, and my country, the United Kingdom, will be joined officially. All you have to do is put down your name."

The vision broken, America reaches out and takes the pen. England is breathing too hard, simultaneously feeling breathless. America shifts towards the treaty, the pen lowering.

England's heart soars.

Japan raises his camera.

France's eyes sparkle mischievously.

Russia slowly reaches into the pocket of his coat.

Canada begins to stand up.

There is suddenly silence, the music cutting off abruptly. No one takes much notice, too focused on the moment at hand. However, it is what America has been waiting for. He straightens up abruptly, raising the pen in the air. Then, very casually, snaps it effortlessly.

"As if I would sign away my freedom."

_I never wanted..._

England can't understand the words. He knows they mean something, something very important, upsetting, but they refuse to click properly. "What...?"

"I'm not signing."

_...to make you cry but..._

A hush fills the room, everyone freezing. An instrumental version of God Save the Queen begins to play, crashing down on them, filling the air. And then it occurs to England. It is the same tune used for My Country 'Tis of Thee... and God Save America. The sound leaves a bad taste in England's mouth, like sucking on pennies.

_...sometimes that is the price of freedom._

America looks towards the others. "Besides, I've already signed onto a different treaty. The North America bros, Japan treaty."

"Plus France," Canada chimes in, all but collapsing with relief. It had worked!

England stares at America uncomprehendingly then turns to France wearing a look of total betrayal. France throws his hands into the air. "I never! I didn't! What are you talking about?"

Canada looks down at him. "But you did. Remember, you gave me permission to use your signature. I said that document might be for public nudity. I never said it was and you didn't ask."

France stands up, incensed beyond reason. "You tricked me! I... Arthur I didn't... It was a dirty trick!"

England turns back to America, still not understanding. "B-but when... when did you even have the chance to...?"

"On the phone yesterday. Oral agreement. While you were yelling at Scotland. He was in on it. Ireland was in on it. Japan was in on it. And Canada organized it."

"Since... since when?"

"Since the very beginning. I've just been waiting for Canada to save me. And he's come through. I'm even at half strength. I had almost forgotten what it was like, not being weak."

England shakes his head. "N-no... no... NO! I will not stand for this! I won't- I'll... You can't do this to me! You can't leave me again! You can't leave me! You're mine!"

_I'm sorry._

America pulls back his fist and hits England squarely on the jaw. England falls backwards with a grunt. "I can do as I damn well please. You do not own me and you never have, despite what you might think."

America takes out something from his pocket and holds it up. A lighter. He picks up the page of the treaty he was meant to sign and lights it on fire. Once it is blazing, he tosses the lighter aside and tugs the flag off of his shoulder, holding the flame to the cloth. "This is retribution for desecrating my flag."

The flames lick hungrily at the material then start to climb up it greedily. America drops it to the ground and the flames grow bright and hot as they consume the entire flag. For a moment America and England lock eyes through the flames. The music swells and fills England's head hatefully.

Again. America... Alfred had slipped through his fingers again. But how? He was so close... so close! And he had thought... a small part of him had thought that just maybe... just maybe America had wanted to be with him. How could he be so stupid? He had wanted it too badly and now it was lost. He... had been blind.

_I'm so sorry._

The realization that it was all a game, a joke, a lie, hits him so hard it feels like his heart has been fragmented beyond repair. He cannot breathe. America did not love him and now he never would.

America sees or senses something break in England and some distant part within himself whispers, 'Checkmate.'

With fierce intensity he turns on the other four, glasses flashing as they catch the light of the fire. "Nobody fucks with America. _Nobody_. Let freedom ring motherfuckers."

There is a chill sent through the room. Silhouetted by the fire, eyes hard and cold like ice, he is no longer cute, molestable Alfred but the dangerous superpower America.

And nobody fucked with him.

America starts walking forward. Japan looks at the ground as he comes closer and Canada shrinks away. As when he had first entered, he does not acknowledge them. France rushes past him. "A-Arthur, get away from that fire! Careful you're going to get burned, are you listening to me? Someone help me put out the fire damn it!"

"I'll help!"

"AUGH! Why would you pour vodka on it, you made it worse!"

"Oops, my mistake."

"For the love of-!"

France begins to rush towards the door, passing America to get anything to put the fire out, when America grabs him and turns him around. "This is for earlier asshole."

America takes a page out of Scotland's book and headbutts France. France falls backwards and America steps over him carelessly, continuing on towards the door. He takes a step out of the room and he feels... he feels like England can't do shit to him anymore.

Canada finally gathers his courage and runs after America. "A-Alfred!"

America pauses outside the door and turns around. Canada flinches at the still hardened look on his brother's face, almost stops altogether, but then the look melts away replaced with a huge grin. Alfred throws his arms open and Matthew feels no more reservation. He closes the distance between them and jumps into his arms, hugging him fiercely. America laughs, lets out a loud whoop, spins Canada around. "You did it Mattie, you did it you beautiful pancake loving fool! You completely saved my ass!"

Matthew feels tears well up in the corners of his eyes and he presses his face to his brother's chest. "Showed you didn't I? N-next time you try to forget I exist you just remember that!"

America practically crushes Canada's ribs. "Mattie, after this I will never forget you ever again. I swear on Lady Liberty!"

He finally lets Matthew go, beaming down at him. "Shit you're smart, I can't believe you pulled that off. I... God what can I do to repay you?"

Canada fixes his glasses which had gone slightly askew. He turns away, face turning red. "W-well... I... if you really want you could maybe... maybe... give me a k-ki-kiss-"

"Ye did it lad! Ye're free! Ah told ye that ye could do it!"

"You helped so much. If it wasn't for you I'd be property of England right now! You're a damn good man Scotland!"

Canada turns around and sees America has started talking to Scotland, the two of them smacking each other heartily on the back. "H-he already forgot about me..."

America turns. "Hm? Sorry Matt, what were you saying?"

Canada sighs and waves his hand dismissively. "N-never mind..."

Japan stands hesitantly in the doorway. "Congratulations America-san."

He bows. America pats Scotland and Canada again then walks to Japan. He lowers his voice. "You put anything weird in Matt's treaty?"

Japan shakes his head regretfully. "Your honorable brother found it and removed it."

America beams. "Then you get a hug too!"

He crushes Japan to him. "A-Ah! A-America-san, you are much too forward!"

America just laughs and lets him go, putting an arm around his narrow shoulders and leading him away from the door. "I don't care, it's a good day to be exuberant don't you think? Let's all get drunk!"

Russia pops up next to him and puts an arm around his waist. "Sounds like fun!"

America jumps and tries to shove his arm away. "No one invited you!"

Scotland breaks in. "The more the merrier! Come on, Ah know a great place nearby! Damn Ireland is gonna be angry he didn't stick around te see this!"

Canada can't help but ask. "What were you doing here anyway Russia?"

Russia grins. "I was here to stop the ceremony and steal America for my own of course. I never would have foreseen your alliance though. A pity. I didn't even get to put my plan into action."

The sudden sparkle in Russia's eye concerns everyone. "Wh-what was your plan?"

Russia giggles. "I guess we'll never know will we?"

Everyone gets a small shiver down their spine. Scotland raises an eyebrow. "Er... well... Onward then!"

America almost looks back through the door, almost looks back to see if England is alright. But Russia is tugging at his arm, Canada is on his other side holding on protectively, Scotland is giving directions in a booming voice, and Japan is taking pictures that leave him half-blind. He is stolen away without a second glance back.

England would be okay. He always bounced back, didn't he? And just as hurriedly as America had been brought to England's house, he is whisked away.

Arthur sits on the floor staring at the charred remains of his flag. A very sweaty, haggard Francis sits next to him. He had finally put the fire out with much stomping and beating with his coat which had left it completely ruined. "Well. That was...certainly something."

England is silent. France struggles to think of something to say. "We can't win them all. America is really impossible. C'est la vie as they say."

England bows his head, still silent.

"This isn't like you mon cher. Go ahead, blow up, call him a terrible twat for humiliating you like this. Where is your spirit?"

England buries his face in his hands and his shoulders begin to shake.

"Oh, oh mon cher, please don't cry. Please, don't cry Arthur."

"I'm not c-crying!" England hides his face in his arms, the shaking of his body intensifying. France puts an arm around his shoulders. "Oh Arthur...My darling Arthur... Shhh, it's okay."

But it wasn't okay. He had lost and now it was hopeless. Everything was hopeless.

America was gone.

* * *

**Song note:** I would like to talk about the song that played in the background while America is kicking ass. It's not that important but it turned out to be absolutely perfect for the scenario if you know some of the history behind it! First of all the tune was originally German I believe but has been used in quite a lot of songs. One of them of course being God Save the Queen, a British patriotic song. However, it was also used for the tune of America, or My Country Tis of Thee as it's usually referred to which was the temporary national anthem until the Star Spangled Banner replaced it. As it turns out, however, the tune was also used for another song called God Save America, which of course is the title of my story! So as you see, totally perfect fit. And I didn't even plan it.

**AN:** So this was the climax. Next chapter will be the conclusion. Is England doomed to eternal misery and woe? Will he join an orgy and realize he's a man of the Lord (reference to the best HP crack fic ever)? Did anyone ever get some of America? Find out Thursday in the very last chapter~!


	16. Chapter 16

Oh my the final chapter! It felt so strange when I finished this chapter and realized I was done. This story turned out being about 67 pages in all over the course of 4 months and six chapters longer than anticipated. Whew! I hope you enjoy~!

* * *

A few months later:

The air is particularly sweet this morning. Yes, it is definitely a beautiful day. Which made it even more of a pain that America had to be here at Canada's house again working out yet more kinks in the new Employment Opportunity Program. Reformation took a long ass time and Canada was so insistent about it.

"Come on, Alfred! You have to take some interest and be more responsible. This is the reason you got into financial troubles to begin with," he had told him. More than once. More than a few times. If Mattie wasn't careful he was going to turn into the next Engla-

America doesn't let his mind go there. It brought up too many strong emotions and it was too beautiful of a day to brood.

If nothing else, he did have to hand it to Canada. Things were starting to run much more smoothly. There was still a long way to go but things were looking up. The money he received from Canada, Japan, and very reluctantly from France did wonders as well. Though once again, Mattie was very strict and made sure he used the money properly. It was all a bit of a bother but he was still free and that was just about all that mattered.

Though he was starting to wonder... If he remembers correctly each country gave a certain amount and it almost felt like he was receiving too much... Not that he would complain, but he can't shake the feeling and it bothers him.

Speaking of things that were bothering him, where was Canada? He had been waiting in Canada's parlor for what feels like ages. Where had he gone off to? All he wants to do is leave and go doze in the sun for a while. Agitated, America gets up, brushing himself off. Maybe he was up in his office? It didn't hurt to look, better than waiting anyway.

America barely knocks before bursting into Canada's office. "Hey, Matthew you in here?"

A quick sweeping glance around the room tells him that Mattie is most certainly not. How annoying. America enters the room anyway, deciding if he had to be bored he might as well snoop a bit to entertain himself.

There are quite a few papers on the desk. America grabs some of them and leans against the desk, starting to browse over them. Most of them were super boring and lame things he can't exploit or has no interest in. He's almost through the stack when he finds one that all but stops his heart.

After reading the first few lines he realizes he is holding a page from the treaty. The page on which everyone had signed to be exact. The first signature is Canada's, small but clear. Then is Japan's, elegant and narrow with the name printed in Japanese characters next to it. France's signature is simply the bold stamp which lacks personality. Then comes his, big and proud as always. That should have been the last name on the page. It isn't. America's hands start to tremble. Beneath his name is one final signature, no-nonsense yet graceful.

_Arthur Kirkland, United Kingdom. _

"Hello? Alfred, where are you?" Canada's voice calls out to him, breaking through a trance of sorts.

America finds his voice. "In here!"

A moment later Canada enters the room. "I wish you wouldn't always wander around. It's hard to find you when you do. I wasn't gone that long, really."

Alfred silently flips the page so Canada can see what he is holding. It takes a second but soon Canada's eyes go wide with recognition. "Wh-what are you doing with that?"

America points to the final name. "What is this?"

Canada swallows hard. "It's... uh... You weren't supposed to see it."

Fear spikes through Alfred. "Why? Are you hiding something? Did you make some sort of deal with him?"

Canada quickly shakes his head. "N-no! Nothing like that! I guess I can't really keep it a secret anymore. Two weeks after the whole... incident, England came to visit me. At first I didn't want to talk to him. It took a lot of persistence for me to hear him out. I guess I sort of took pity on him in the end. He was just so... He told me he wanted to join the treaty."

America stares at Canada uncomprehendingly. "But why?"

"That's what I wanted to know. I wasn't sure if it was some kind of trick. But he kept on talking... begging... and he seemed so sincere about it. He said he had been wrong and still wanted to help you. But he knew you wouldn't want any help directly from him so he made me swear not to tell you about it. The money he has been sending is split equally into the share Japan, France, and I give you."

America stares at the signature again, baffled. "...I don't understand. After what I did... Why?"

Canada walks over and takes one of America's hands in his own. "Because... just like me... he cares about you very much."

Canada blushes softly. "I guess... Well, what he did was wrong. I am not trying to defend him. I myself am still very angry about what he did to you. But you should have seen his eyes Al. They were so... they ached so deeply. I don't know where he got lost, and I'm certainly not saying you should forgive him or anything, but don't feel too harshly towards him if you can manage it. In the end... he loves you and that's all there is to it."

America's mind is reeling. Still, one thing becomes clear almost immediately. He leans in and kisses Matthew's forehead. "You're very kind Mattie. We're going to have to reschedule this meeting. I have some heroic duties that must be attended to immediately."

He presses the page of the treaty into Canada's hands. "I'll be back."

Canada holds his hand out. "W-wait, Alfred!"

But America has already run out the door.

Canada puts the paper on the desk and sighs. This was good. Al hadn't seen the way England had groveled and begged just to make him listen. He didn't see the tears and the hurt. It was beyond painful to see Arthur like that. It was no wonder Francis currently felt very hostile about his tricking him into signing the treaty.

Still... it had been kind of nice having Alfred all to himself for once. His relationship would never be the same as England's relationship with America. There was something very strong underlying everything, all the fights and name calling. Something unbreakable...

Canada taps the desk lightly. No, that wasn't any reason to give up. Even if the two of them patched things up there would be a long road to getting back to where they had been. As selfish as it might be Canada is just a little bit happy that for a while longer at least he will remain Al's savior.

~.

Things had not gone well for England after America had escaped. Alfred knows that. Russia had leaked the story to some of the other countries, regaling the tale with sadistic glee, and it had simply spread. There was a lot of gossip, a lot of nasty comments made. Apparently some harassment as well. It was surely a very uncomfortable and humiliating period of time for Arthur.

On top of that England had become very hermit like. He rarely came out, avoided seeing other countries whenever he could. Said he simply wanted to be left alone for a while. He hadn't even shown up to the last big meeting. Of course America had been concerned... but a part of him was still struggling with forgiving him. Now it seemed it was time. Perhaps past due.

No one answers the door when America knocks and rings the doorbell. He tries the door and finds it unlocked. It seems eerily silent and America can't bring himself to announce himself. He starts to search the house room by room. Finally America finds him in the study in which he had received the phone call that had ruined England's meticulous planning. His back is turned to the door, head bowed slightly. He seems to be doing his needlework. America can't help but vaguely wonder if England is still working on the rose.

America pushes the door open further, not quite sure how to start. The door creaks and England freezes halfway through a stitch. "So help me Ireland, if you've come to mock me one more time I am going to-"

He turns and his voice dies. For a moment the two of them look at each other, not knowing what to say. The needlework falls to the ground. Not a rose. Hard to say what it is yet, but definitely not a rose. England stands uncertainly and takes a step forward, his eyes lighting up. "Ameri-"

He cuts himself off, as if he had started saying something he shouldn't, and hesitates. "...What... what are you doing here?"

"Canada. No, not really because of him... Um, I found out about the treaty thing."

England hangs his head. "I see. I guess you're probably here to tell me I can't be... Please forgive my selfishness trying to force myself into Canada's treaty. I... I'm really sorry."

England begins to tremble and tears start to slide down his cheeks. "I'm so sorry Alfred. I don't know what came over me. I went kind of crazy and I started doing all these things I would usually never do. I'm sorry. So, so sorry. Please believe me! I... I don't need you to... to understand but at least let me help on the treaty. You never have to talk to me or see me again but please let me just... I want to... I want to do something for you, make it up to you."

He starts to wipe his face. "I just..."

America crosses the room wordlessly. England hugs himself and looks up at him. "Heh... I thought I ... I mean, I never thought you'd be in my house again. I'm happy. I'm really happy right now. God I'm such a bloody idiot."

England begins to sob. "I'm so pathetic, please don't look at me right now. Crying like... like a baby. I have no right to feel so sorry for myself. I'm just so sorry. I messed everything up. I ruined... God, what do I do?"

He collapses to his knees, hands over his eyes. "What do I do Alfred?"

America sighs irritatedly. "Well you can start by not crying. It's really lame. Then again you're always crying. You're so unmanly."

England tries to calm his tears but it doesn't work very well. America sighs. "You're hopeless. Look... I'm not here to tell you that you can't be part of the treaty. In fact its been pretty helpful."

England's eyebrows knit together in confusion and his hands fall away. "...Then why...?"

America looks down at him. Had this pathetic, broken man really lorded over him? Nearly defeated him? Seeing Arthur like this makes it easier to say what he came to say.

"I want you to stay on the treaty. So it doesn't seem like a very good idea to be in conflict with one of my allies right?"

England's breath catches. Just what was he saying?

America looks away for a moment. "...I'm not sorry, okay? What I did... I feel like it was completely justified and I won't apologize for my actions. Maybe I didn't have to be quite that harsh but I do not regret anything I did that day. However, it was totally unnecessary for Russia to go blabbing it to whoever. The whole affair was a private one and he really had no right, so I do apologize for any grief anyone else has caused you because of that. It was unfair.

"I also... I don't trust you completely. Not right now. Probably won't for a while. What you did was... It was low and it was a shitty thing to do. Not to mention I got molested by a hell of a lot of people because of you. Including you. But I guess... I guess you weren't trying to be cruel or anything and in your own freakish way were...I don't know, kind of trying to help. Well, you had your reasons."

England's heart hurts. Please, please don't let this be another lie. Don't let it be a lie. "Are you saying... what I think you're saying?"

America shrugs. "In the name of the future, let us put that incident behind us and bury it deep, deep within the earth then pour a thousand tons of concrete on top of it and never, ever speak of it again."

Tears well up again and England begins to cry so hard he is rendered speechless. He had been forgiven. He had been resigning himself to the idea that America would never forgive him in a million years, that Alfred was gone from his life forever. And now he was forgiving him just like that.

Maybe it was a lie... If so he doesn't care. It was the most beautiful lie England has ever heard.

America waits for England to calm down, embarrassed for him. He scratches the back of his head. There was one more thing he wanted to say but he's afraid it will make England start crying again. Oh well... He crouches down in front of him. "I also wanted to tell you that... I really do need you after all England. Just... a little bit."

England looks up at him, eyes bright with tears. He reaches up with trembling hands and falls forward, collapsing into America, hugging him as tightly as he can. If America tried to push him off that was alright. But he can't know what those words mean to him. America doesn't push him away. Instead, after a very awkward pause, he starts to stroke his hair.

"I'm sorry I made you cry so much."

England rests his chin against America's shoulder. "That's okay. You're the only one in the entire world who is allowed to make me cry like this."

After what feels like an uncomfortably long time America finally pushes England away. He stands, his knees popping as he does. "Hm... I guess... It's become apparent to me that neither of us feels quite the same way about the other... So... How about we start fresh somewhere in the middle. Friends?"

He offers his hand. England looks up at him and he knows that he could never love someone more if he tried. He knows America doesn't feel that way. Still, friends was progress from brothers.

It was alright. Someday he would find a way to make him say those three words, more precious than 'I need you'.

_I love you._

After all, now there was hope again.

England wipes his tear stained cheeks one last time then takes America's hand. America helps England to his feet and the two of them clasp hands for a moment.

England finally smiles hesitantly. "Do you... want to stay for lunch?"

America pauses before answering slowly. "... Yeah okay."

The two of them start to walk out of the room. Suddenly America puts his arm around England's shoulders. "So now that we're allies again, you should tell me what your fairy technology is!"

"Fairy...? Oh." England supposes he just means the fairies. He smirks. "No way. That's classified. As if I would tell you. You're too dumb to understand."

America looks at him in disgust and withdraws his arm. "I am not too dumb! I don't need your stupid invisible technology. I'll just make my own!"

England laughs. "As if that will ever happen."

It would take a while to fix all the damage both of them had done. But if they had done it once it could be done again. They would find their footing with this new dynamic, figure out the new rules as they went along. However, some things would never change between them and these are the things that would always be most precious to both of them.

~.

Five minutes later in the kitchen:

England starts looking through a cupboard. "So, what do you feel like eating? I could do fish and chips."

Russia appears behind America and puts his arms around his shoulders. "That sounds disgusting. You should make something else."  
Both of them cry out in shock.

Alfred tries to loosen Ivan's grip around his neck. "Let go you freaking creep! What are you even doing here!?"

England tugs at his coat, trying to pull him off America. "Damn it, go home Russia!"

And so America's financial troubles, for the time being, came to an end.

~ End

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**AN: **Yes, surprise gooshy ending -laughs- Sort of. And of course I had to end on something silly because this was originally supposed to be funny though it didn't completely turn out that way somehow. Which is fine by me, I like how it came out. My first goal was to end this without America ever hooking up with anyone which I succeeded at. If you want you can believe that he went on to eventually fall in love with England, or Canada, or even Russia (-laughs-) but that is neither here nor there.

Thank you all for taking this journey with me. I had so much fun writing this story and it really has a place in my heart. I'll miss it but I'm excited to take on something new. New Horizons, a Pirate!EnglandxAmerica fic is my next project. Look out for it sometime in the near future! (And of course if you read You And I will Fall in Love, I will be working on that as well).

Thanks for the reviews, the alerts, and just for reading~ I hope you got as much enjoyment out of this story as I did.


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